The Star Cycle, Book 1: Star Crossed
by Wildhorses1492
Summary: If Caspian had uttered six simple words, what might Susan have answered? Peter was a man of thirty when he and his siblings returned from Narnia to England; perhaps it could be he left something behind in that land? When the Pevensies fell out of the wardrobe they left many things in their wake. A 'star crossed' romance story set at the end of Prince Caspian. *Film&Book*
1. Stay Here, With Me

**Chapter One: Stay Here, With Me**

**{XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX}  
~ Narnia ~**

_"Don't watch her walk away. Do not. It will be easier if you simply don't look. Wait, is she coming back?" _He looked up, focusing solely on the Narnian Queen as she turned away from her siblings.

_"What is the matter with me? Why would I do something so cruel? I have no hope of ever returning, so why should I leave him with_ _a promise which can't ever be?" _She glanced at him once more, regret and uncertainty in her clear eyes. _"Oh, Caspian, ask me. If what I felt between us means anything at all, then ask me to stay here – with you – and I will. Just __**ask**__."_

_"Would it be wrong of me to declare my feelings toward her? Would it be wrong to say I love her as she leaves? Or will it be wrong of me to let her go without ever knowing how I felt?" _He gazed after them, after her, warring with his conscience.

**{~~~~X~~~~}**

"Susan," he paused, lifting a hand towards her, dark eyes begging for attention; the wind rushed softly around them as he called out to her. Susan looked back, and he spoke.

"Stay with me, I love you."

Her blue eyes widened slightly, and if he was entirely focused on the people behind him and those around him – which he wasn't – then he would have heard the quick intake of breath as they waited for her response. Slowly, something changed in Susan's eyes and a tremulous smile came to her lips, but she did not respond. Her shoulders seemed to tremble slightly, as if she might cry, but she did not. Instead she looked over at her brother.

Caspian turned his gaze on the High King also, suddenly wondering what _he_ might think of the words just uttered. The two young men had been at odds for so long, and had only recently fallen into agreeable, almost comradely, terms. Would this declaration, so hurriedly spoken, change that? Caspian hoped not, yet feared now that it might. But instead of the blond High King speaking his opinion on the matter, he turned his eyes – blue, like his sister's – on Aslan, who was watching these actions silently, the wind hardly ruffling His tawny mane.

And then the Lion spoke. "Is this what you want, Daughter of Eve, Son of Adam?" He asked, passing a golden gaze from one to the other.

"Yes, I-I think so, Aslan," Susan answered, taking one step forward, darting a glance at Caspian before looking to the Lion again.

"But is this something you _truly_ long for; more than the life waiting for you in England?" Aslan asked, peering at her with knowing, unfathomable eyes.

"Oh, it is more than anything I've wanted before," Susan answered, her voice slowly growing confidant.

"And you are sure of your choice? This is not a matter to decide on a whim, daughter," Aslan told her with great care, wanting the Queen to understand that if she pledged herself to this world there would be no return from her promise. It would change her life and her siblings' forever. Susan would remain here, and they would go back– without her.

Susan looked away from the Great Lion and turned her gaze on her brothers and sister; her heartbeat increased as she looked from Peter, to Edmund, to Lucy. Could she do this without them? Could she stay behind as they went on ahead, living out their lives in England while she lived hers here in Narnia as a queen? Would such a thing be fair, knowing how long Peter had yearned to come back and that now he could never return after this, his last Adventure? Her heart, for the first time, was bitterly torn in two.

Aslan turned His attention to the Pevensies, something of concern on His regal face. "Will you be all right with Susan's choice, children?" He asked.

"I-I believe so, Aslan," Lucy said, speaking first. She appeared somewhat doubtful, but, regrettably, such a thing was to be expected in this difficult situation.

"What would happen back home, Aslan? Wouldn't questions be raised as to how there were four of us one moment and then only three the next?" Edmund queried, his mind already traveling ahead to problems everyone else might not so quickly come to.

"I shall make it be as though Susan never was. Only you would remember her, as you remember Narnia when you are in your world," Aslan told him. Edmund nodded, looking thoughtful as he mulled over the results such memories might bring to them; having to converse with people and take care not to mention Susan lest they seem ridiculous would take great pains at first. But time would make it easier, as it did all things.

Peter watched Caspian and then looked at his sister, moving closer to her so he could say what he felt without being overheard by everyone around them. "Susan, is this really what you want: to stay here– with _him_?"

Peter was careful with his words, and did not say what he felt like shouting. Whatever would he do without Susan? He acted when they had returned here as if he did not need her, but it was just the opposite; she was what held him together when he felt like falling apart. She was his balance, his stability, his immovable support; if she were gone, what would happen to him? What would happen to _any_ of them without her?

"Peter, I _want_ to stay. Please let me. This is already hard as it is. I love you all, but, I also love Caspian, and he cares for me in return. There is no promise I might find such love back home; no vow I shall ever be recipient of such feelings there. You _know_ this. Our lives are too short to waste on chances and maybes, Peter. I think I can make my choice– I think I can do this," she answered softly, putting her hand over his, a hesitant smile slipping onto her face.

He sighed, but returned her smile with one of his own. "All right, but I shall miss you, Su. I just hope that your choice will make you happy; that _he_ will make you happy. As your oldest brother I deserve the knowledge of such things," Peter answered, his voice just barely breaking as he leaned in to embrace her firmly, his arms wrapping protectively around her for what he knew would be the last time. Susan wrapped hers around his shoulders as tears slipped from her blue eyes.

While they talked, Edmund watched them. He was not nearly as emotional, knowing he and Lucy had been given almost a sworn promise to return someday. His slight frown and thoughtful brown eyes were for his brother. Peter had lost so much when last they left: his family and his kingdom. And now it seemed as if the world wanted to give the oldest Pevensie another breathtaking blow: separation from the whole Narnian world and the one person who might have been able to make that separation easier as she had in the days past, when things seemed horribly dark and the pain became almost unbearable for him.

But as the thoughts worried Edmund's conscience, his sister approached, and he smiled for her brightly. "Please, let's not cry, sister; I'll be coming back someday, you know, and perhaps I shall see you again. If not, wait for me in Aslan's Country," he decided cheerfully, shrugging his shoulders a bit while the wind flipped up the lock of dark hair tumbling over his forehead.

"I know you're right, Ed, but I'll still miss you all! I will think of you often; do the same for me, perhaps?" Susan requested, carefully brushing the tears off her cheeks and forming a smile for him.

"Sure, Su, whatever you like." Edmund grinned. She shook her head slightly as she came to Lucy. Susan gathered her skirts around her and crouched until they were eye-level, which was, Susan realized, frightfully simple. A wave of sadness engulfed Susan when she realized she would never see Lucy grow into the beautiful young woman she had been in the Golden Age.

They looked at one another, Susan somewhat hesitantly, worried Lucy might be frustrated with her for such a rather hasty-seeming decision.

"_Oh!_" the younger girl cried abruptly, losing all sense of false bravado, flinging her arms around her sister's neck and practically falling against her. "I shall miss you so," she whispered in Susan's ear tearfully, a catch in her voice.

"Don't cry, Lucy. I fear that if you cry, I will too. We'll see one another again someday, I know it!" Susan answered earnestly, closing her eyes and hugging the younger girl back.

"Do you really think so?" Lucy pulled away, looking into her sister's eyes.

"Oh, I am certain! Aslan will bring us together somehow," Susan answered, smiling. Lucy brightened, her spirits lifted considerably with such a reminder.

"Well, I suppose . . . it'll be all right then. But Peter will complain for _weeks_ about how we should all have stayed," she declared with a giggle. Susan laughed, though inwardly she worried, being reminded of her brother. How would he cope when he returned? Without her there to hide his feelings and help him, would Lucy learn of Peter's still-healing scars?

"No more of that; and I do _not_ complain!" Peter suddenly appeared beside Lucy, reaching for her hand with a somewhat cheerful grin as he reprimanded her.

Susan stood. Smoothing out her skirts and momentarily clasping her hands, she walked away from her siblings, coming to stand in front of Aslan. She looked up at the Great Lion. "Aslan . . . I have decided. I'm going to stay. I want to; my place is not in England anymore, it's here, in Narnia," she informed Him in a voice that trembled only slightly after her declaration.

"You have made your decision, then, daughter," the Lion informed her gravely, bowing His head toward her.

"Yes, I have."

Caspian was silent as she made her farewells, and wondered about what he'd done. He knew that if he had had siblings it would be the hardest thing in the world to take his leave of them; perhaps he should tell Susan to go, to forget what he had told her. He could not cause her pain. Caspian was startled from his thoughts by Aslan's voice at his side.

"No choice made for love and honesty could be wrong, unless it is made with dark and selfish intentions at the heart. You did not make this choice with such. Do not regret what you cannot change." Caspian was still uncertain. He looked doubtful, even as Susan walked up to the Lion and He turned His attention on her.

After Susan spoke, she moved over to stand near Caspian; not near enough to touch, but close enough to let her intentions be understood easily by everyone surrounding them. She was going to stay. They watched together as her siblings entered Aslan's Door. Lucy turned once more to look back and Susan lifted her hand in farewell as her little sister stepped through the Door.

"You can still go." Caspian looked over at her, brown eyes searching her face; in them she could see concern and regret over what had transpired.

Susan looked back, meeting his gaze steadily. "I don't want to. I want to stay here– with you."

**{~~~~~~0~~~~~~****}  
**

**The Train Station**

For a moment it was three worlds twisted into a collage of colors. Slowly the darkest and dreariest was widening to engulf them; then, there came the noise.

The three Pevensie siblings looked at one another.

They were back.

It was such a daze. Such a confusion, they felt, struggling to get their bearings and remember which train would be theirs, what their plans had been, the names of things in this world, and what they had been going to do before being pulled into Narnia– no, before they had been _needed_. It was not simple to transfer from one world into the next, and they wished silently for a moment to have had some time to re-adjust.

Peter looked down the platform in a daze, watching the students as they started moving; jostling and pushing against one another to get to the train that had just pulled in. Dashing past, grinning and laughing about some horrid prank or another, were the boys who had begun the fight with him almost fifteen minutes –or had it been a lifetime?– ago. He did not even notice them, really. He smiled sadly, but with the barest hint of pained amusement.

Aslan had made it be as though Susan never was, to be sure; the boy who had been –with great determination– plowing his way through the student masses to talk to her brushed passed as if his only goal had ever been to reach the train. He did not even nod or wave in acknowledgement to them. But Susan's things, her traveling case and an old handbag from Mum, were still under the bench beside his. Peter shook his head, before bending down and opening her purse, feeling around in it for something she had told him would be there.

Finally, his fingers touched what he was seeking for. Carefully he pulled out a silver heart-shaped locket. It swung like a pendulum on its matching sterling silver chain in front of him. For a moment he stared as if entranced. An elegant, old-fashioned 'A' had been etched into the silver among twisting and twining branches. Sixteen small emeralds gleamed in the lighting and again he was reminded of just how exquisite the work of Narnian Dwarves was. Peter smiled.

So lost in memories was he that he failed to noticed Edmund and Lucy scurrying about to get their cases onto the train before it left the station. "Hurry up, Pete, or we'll miss it!" Edmund finally demanded of his brother, whose back was to them. The blond young man jumped into action, wrapping the chain around his fingers before grabbing up his case and bounding onto the train behind his siblings minutes before the doors swished closed.

Only after, as they struggled to find seating together for the last leg of their journey, did Edmund notice the chain in his brother's hand. As they sat down, Lucy just across the rather narrow aisle, he watched Peter unwind it from around his fingers and look at it thoughtfully. For a long time Edmund said nothing. Eventually, with a slightly frustrated sigh, Peter caught up the piece of jewelry in his other hand, his fingers closing around the metal trinket.

"Su kept it?" Edmund asked as Peter stared out the train window; he and Lucy had finished their conversation about his torch being left behind, and now he was wondering if he should even start questioning the reappearance of the locket.

"Yes, I asked her to. I cannot bear what it reminds me of, but I also cannot think of ridding myself of it. . . It's the only thing Aslan has ever allowed me to take out of Narnia; and now it's my last link to that world. I couldn't do it," he murmured in reply, fingers tightening over the object they concealed.

Edmund nodded absently, leaning back in the worn seat. With a slow exhale, a grim look settled on his face. _"For the love of all which is good and true in Narnia; Aslan, do not let these memories destroy him so bitterly!" _he willed as the train gathered speed and began rolling past the landscape. They were much closer to a new destination, going impossibly far from the house where all their real adventures had begun.

**.  
.**

_The breeze was gentle on his face; cooling, soothing, and the air smelled of summer. The young man looked around him. Narnia in summer– the most wonderful time of year, he decided. But suddenly, as he stood there, he heard someone calling to him._

_"Peter . . . Peter?"_

_Slowly, he looked around, for the words were faint on the wind and seemed to come from all around him, and yet, they didn't._

_"Peter!" the voice suddenly exclaimed in joy. He looked up quickly, his heartbeat increasing with a deep longing at the sound. A young woman with shining hair the color of amber had entered his sight, and on either side of her were two children, looking at him with almost painfully eager and questioning expressions on their young faces. The woman reached out to him beseechingly. _

_"Oh, Peter, come home! I cannot rule this land on my own, and these children should not grow up without their father. Darling, come __**home**__ . . ." _

**.  
.**

He jerked up in bed, struggling to keep from crying out. His hair was damp with sweat, and he trembled from the dream. As innocent as it always seemed, it was a horrible nightmare he was forced to experience far too often for his peace of mind. Always, she called out to him, and he could not respond. He was not given the chance to explain to her why he could not come back, why he had left her– which he had never meant to do but it had just happened. It pulled at his conscience and guilt was never far from his thoughts.

Passing an unsteady hand over his forehead to brush his damp hair back, he glanced about the darkened room, hoping that he had not woken his brother. Peter hated to wake anyone; it had been easier when Susan could come into his bedroom back home, knowing what he suffered and able to reassure him somewhat.

"You had that dream again, didn't you?" The question asked in the dark beside his bed made him jump, and Peter looked up into Edmund's concerned face, the streetlamp outside their window throwing dim light on his brother's rather pale features. Peter nodded tiredly, ready to admit defeat. He did not know how much longer he could bear sleepless nights and ceaseless remembering.

"The one Amalia's in?" Edmund pressed. He wanted clarification, so he asked, just to be sure.

"Yes," Peter admitted, sighing. "Ed, I'm lost; I don't know what to do!" he suddenly exclaimed, putting his head in his hands.

Edmund sighed in turn. How he wished Susan was here with them, she'd have solved this. He walked away from his brother's bed and over to the window. Leaning against it, Edmund looked up and could just see the stars overhead. Being the firm and reassuring sibling had always been Peter's role –Susan's too, he allowed– and now it seemed such a role had been thrust onto his shoulders. He closed his eyes, pressing his cheek against the cool glass.

_"This shall be a __**long**__ year!"_

* * *

**A/N:**

**I suppose I must explain myself. . . Well, I was rereading this story after a long time of not even looking at it, and I've realized it is just terribly written; far worse than the second book, and not even recognizable (excusing the plot) from the third book! I _had_ to rewrite; also, I'm hoping that doing this will help me find the zest for writing I seem to have lost. . . **

**Generally this story has remained the same, but I have rewritten lots of dialogue and tried to shorten the chapters, which means that instead of being able to simply replace them without updating, I'm going to have to update. ****Nevertheless, I hope everyone enjoys this story, and that I haven't frustrated the original readers too much by rewriting instead of continuing the third book in the series. **

**The original posting date was _10/15/2014 to 1/14/2015_.**

**(_If anyone wants to know, I have all the original chapters and the dialogue in my A/Ns to the guest reviewers._) **

**Thanks for checking in, **

**WH**


	2. What Lies Behind Locks

**Chapter Two: What Lies Behind Locks**

**{XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX}  
~ Narnia ~**

"Why didn't you ask me to stay before; when you had time to broach the question? Why did you wait so long to tell me how you felt?" Susan looked up at Caspian as they danced that evening in the square, her face curious.

He stopped, though the dancers continued around them, gathering his thoughts. "I tried to tell you, a number of times, but I always managed to convince myself it was foolish. . . I was taught Narnian history, not just my own. I know who the Gentle Queen was; I know hundreds of men must have declared their undying love to you– would I be any different if I told you my feelings?" he admitted with some sarcasm. "I would simply be another prince to fall in love with the image of the Gentle Queen, nothing more. I thought you spurned me anyway, for what my people had done to your subjects."

"I never spurned you, you mustn't think that; but it _was_ difficult for me to accept that we were returning to a world that was not what we had thought it would ever become. It's painful to take such a loss; especially so for Peter. . . I believe that's why he acted as he did. When I think back to those months, when we were so caught up in war and planning for war, I realize caring for you left me confused, and slightly distant. But I was so afraid to let myself love something which I could lose– even my siblings. In the middle of a war, I had taught myself long ago to prepare for the worst losses possible," she admitted, absently grazing her thumb over the back of his hand as she spoke.

"Yet here we are, both alive," he murmured, moving until their eyes met.

"It seems a silly, childish excuse now, I know," she laughed quietly, with a hint of pain. "But I feared, ever so much, of losing everything in those uncertain, shadowed days."

"It isn't silly at all. I understand, because I felt what you speak of when I rescued you from the Telmarine soldiers in the woods; in that moment I did not think I could go on if I lost what had suddenly come to mean so much to me. If the war had ended in defeat and great loss of life, I might have given up. . . But the Narnians are a people I do not think I could forget; I do not think I would have been able to let them go if given that chance. Nor you," he added, the beginnings of a smile coming over his features.

"That is a beautiful promise; if only I were brave enough to say one to rival it. But I _can_ say that I do not regret for one moment staying here; it was the right thing for me to do. I don't know what would've happened to me if I'd gone back." She looked up at him, smiling in return.

"You would have gone on being the beautiful, unattainable Queen Susan, no matter the trials your world put in your way. And I would remain the lonely Telmarine Prince regretting and yet sighing in relief to not have done such a foolish thing as declare my love," he jested lightly, leaning his head closer to hers so that their faces were mere inches apart.

"You would have been 'foolish to declare your love'?" Susan raised an eyebrow, a quiet laugh escaping her.

"No matter how long I am near you, I shall always consider myself beneath you," he answered, chuckling slightly, glancing away from her and looking to see if anyone was watching.

"And I will be forever inclined to think quite the opposite, then, I'm afraid," she declared, looking at him pointedly.

"But let us quarrel over nothing more trivial than that; I should hate for us to argue over small matters," he remarked, an amused sparkle lighting his dark eyes.

"I agree," she replied, tilting her chin up slightly and giving him a small nod.

He laughed, leaned forward and kissed her lightly, before lifting her off the ground and whirling her around. Susan laughed in surprise, but once she had the cobble street beneath her satin slippers again, she leaned up and kissed him, sliding her arms around his neck. They might be missing the family they loved, the only one Caspian had known, but they found happiness in one another, and knew somehow that it would be enough.

**{~~~~~~~~0~~~~~~~~****}  
**

**The Ruins of Cair Paravel**

"We're simply here to collect knowledge of the terrain and to inspect the treasure chamber as Queen Susan has requested; nothing more. I have assembled you for the task as I feel that your loyalty and understanding is beyond scrutiny or doubt," Caspian informed the Narnian soldiers that had ventured with him and Susan, as he dismounted his horse.

Eight Telmarine wagon teamsters began coming down from their seats. They had been hired merely for the possibility of there being a great deal of artifacts to carry away from the crumbling, ill-protected ruin of what was once Cair Paravel, the radiant palace by the sea. It had been a long day's journey from Beaversdam, and the drivers began unhitching the draft horses so they might rest until the great beasts were needed again.

Among the party Caspian had assembled for this venture were Trufflehunter, Reepicheep, and Suncloud, a young blood bay Centaur following in his father's hoofsteps to become the next Narnian general. Though Susan had tried to persuade Trumpkin to come with them, the Dwarf was adamant that he would not return to the place where he had almost drown – though the Queen managed to have him to admit it was not exactly where he was almost dispatched – until the restorations were underway. Then, and only then, he said, was when he would consider it time to return to the once-glorious landmark of his ancestors'.

Now, Susan dismounted from the sorrel palfrey she rode and dropped her reins lightly upon the ground so the mare would not be inclined to wander off. Susan lifted her gaze to the tops of the trees, watching the ocean breeze blow through them, though the ocean was yet to come into sight. Suddenly, a thought occurred to her. She looked back, studying Caspian for a moment with care.

"You have never seen the Eastern Ocean, have you?" she asked, coming over to him. He turned to her, but the startled expression in his dark eyes conveyed that she was correct in her assumption. "Come, then, for I must show it to you," she requested with a quiet smile, holding out her hand, her eyes sparkling with her contained excitement.

He placed his hand in hers, though he felt hesitation rise within at her mention of the ocean. Truly, he had never seen it, and knew that if she feared it little, he should be of the same opinion. But ages of his peoples' superstitions and stories survived in his mind, and he could not suppress the unease as she led him up a steadily-increasing incline, the scent of salt growing stronger upon the air all the while. Finally, she broke through the trees, and they stood on a high point.

He had been looking back, thinking about how he had not informed any of the Narnians where they were going. But then, the distant sound of a breaker colliding with the rocks and the shore below caught his attention. He whirled, cautious, but his breath caught, and he could not speak. Almost with hesitance he walked forward to stand as close to the edge as he dared. It was like nothing he could have dreamed. Slowly, an expression that seemed somewhere between a look of joy and uncertainty came to his face.

"It– it seems almost as if it should . . . go on forever," he murmured, never removing his gaze from the ocean. Behind him, Susan smiled softly. "It is more beautiful than I could have imagined." He watched as wave after wave rolled into the shore not far away on a stretch of sandy beach, the white foam frothing like cream in a bucket.

"Lucy would be so pleased with your love of her ocean. And she would offer it _many_ more praises. Edmund used to write her poems about it for her birthdays," Susan remembered, looking off absently as her thoughts returned to a world that had long since slipped away from them.

Caspian almost reluctantly turned back to look at her. "Do you think . . . ? Susan, someday I will bring my people back to the sea so that it will be feared no more." Again he gazed back at the vibrant blue waters that stretched endlessly into the eastern horizon. The wind blew around them smelling strongly of the ocean, and far off a seagull called a lonely cry.

"Caspian, make as many promises as days fill a twelvemonth, but do not let them restrain you. If the ocean calls to you, go. There are certain rare times in life when it is yourself you must see to first, before others. Do not let them hold you back. If they never love the ocean as you do now, it is all right." An understanding lay in her eyes, disguising her sorrow. Near the end of their reign – though they had not known it was the end – Peter had longed to cross the Eastern Ocean. He had said nothing, but she could sense that Caspian wished the same.

"Truly? I cannot comprehend a time when I will not be required to keep peace between my people and yours. I cannot foresee a day coming when I will not be largely needed or you will be free of soothing your peoples' concerns about mine," he replied with a bit of grim resolve, the barest hint of pain dulling his dark eyes.

"That day will come, you'll soon see. Peter, Edmund, Lucy and I were concerned in kind when we first began to rule; although, I must admit it was not as tender an issue as this is. We worried about Jadis' followers and other sorcerers or sorceresses rising to fill her place. There were many such banished people in the West, and we all feared they would come to lay claim on Narnia. They never did, and we knew only peace after the first two years of our reign," she tried to offer sympathetically.

"I must take that as consolation for now; I believe we came here to inspect Cair Paravel, not to marvel over the ocean and worry about what has not yet come," Caspian suddenly changed the subject, giving her a warm grin and shaking his dark head lightly at his fears. He needn't be so grim; Aslan would be with him, and Susan would not leave him without aid.

She laughed; it was a bright, joyful sound. "Well then, on to Cair Paravel! I believe that the tide is sufficiently low enough for us to cross over to the island created by age," she jested, keeping a merry smile on her face though inwardly she felt some melancholy about it all. It seemed so sad that this great ruin was all that remained of her previous life in this world.

Carefully, they walked down from the point, returning to their party and their soldiers. Overhead, the yellow sun radiated warmth and the promise of a marvelous summer.

**{~~~~X~~~~}**

Susan paused in her work, gazing around the room. She had only hinted to Caspian about her reasons for coming here, mentioning lightly that there were things she wished to acquire for the wedding. In reality, she longed to see just how much the Narnians had managed to protect and store away down in the vaults beneath the ruined palace. She wanted to know if there was anything by way of a history or chronicle surviving that told tale of the Golden Age of Narnia.

It was then that the door caught her eye.

Moving across the room in a way that would draw little attention to herself, she came over to a shadowy corner a toppled figure of armor had once guarded. Now the ancient trappings of war could not contain their secret, since the tapestry on the wall had been eaten away and the figure no longer stood erect. Behind both time-worn things was a heavy-looking iron door. Patiently, she began removing the armor; the heavy metal rusty and shedding russet flakes onto her boots and sleeves. Finally, she had carried away a sufficient amount so as to be able to drag the remnants of armor away.

Catching her breath, she reached out and pulled at the heavy wrought-iron handle. Stubbornly, it refused to move even when she leaned her full weight on it. Susan took a step back, staring with frustration at the obstruction between her and whatever secrets the locked room contained. Giving way to her annoyance, Susan roughly scuffed her boot through the dirt and heavy dust underfoot until it came in contact with the door. All that earned her were watery eyes and a momentary cough. Finally she resolved to admit defeat and turned away.

The sound and sensation of her boot heel connecting with something metal underfoot halted her retreat. Carefully lifting her leather-clad foot, Susan peered through the hazy dust hovering above the stone floor and saw a long, golden key. With a quiet sound akin to astonishment and disbelief, she bent down and retrieved the delicately crafted yet durable object. Rubbing it stiffly with her fingers for a minute, she removed some of the dust from the bow to reveal a unicorn symbol. Susan smiled absently as she brought her finger up to trace the mystical beast's outline.

The unicorn had been Peter's emblem. She remembered when she would stand atop a tower here in Cair Paravel, waiting anxiously to see his banners cracking smartly in the breeze after he'd go on long campaigns throughout the land. '_My, what memories this solitary key brings back_,' she mused to herself. Just as she was about to pocket the piece, a thought came to her. She glanced back over her shoulder at the door in the shadows. _'It is foolish to even try.' _Susan attempted to reprimand her thoughts. But still . . . that nagging possibility would not leave her.

Deciding she had nothing to be gained and nothing to be lost if she tried the lock, she returned to the door. Searching through the thick dust covering it was tedious, and she knew she surely had the grey matter streaking through her hair and making her look a ghastly mess, yet Susan ran her fingers over the surface anyway. Finally, just as she was about to declare _this_ avenue hopeless also, the key slid into a carefully concealed lock just beneath the handle.

Excitement overcoming her, Susan twisted it sharply and rushed to push the door open. When she did, it swung inward as silently as if it had been placed on its hinges just a fortnight past. She took a step into the pitch-dark room, and then another. Her footsteps echoed hollowly, and she knew from the familiar sound that the room was quite a large one. Nevertheless, her curiosity overcame her and she felt she had to know before day's end why this room had been so carefully concealed by her subjects.

She gasped as she nearly fell into something bulky and large. Quelling her fear, she took a step back, knowing she needed to do this properly if she was ever to have answers. Turning, she made her way out to find Caspian. If anyone was going to help her in uncovering this room's secrets, it should be him; he was the King of Narnia, after all.

* * *

**A/N: **

**If anyone was reading this story, I'm _so sorry_ for deleting all the chapters; just ask me to send you the chapters you were reading, and I will; I'll even give ya'll an email address if you need it so I can send it to you via email, K? I'll probably be updating about twice a week until I have the fanfic re-posted. I just couldn't allow all that _ghastly_ writing to stay up any longer; needless to say, it was bugging me severely.**

**If there are any questions, please leave them in a review (you you can simply ask for the old author's note on this chapter. I'll give you whatever answers you request). **

**_Note: Yes, Caspian might seem kinda childish compared to Susan, but, she is mentally older than he is. Let's face it; she's gonna just sound older and more experienced._ **

**WH**


	3. A Chronicle That Was Forgot

**Chapter Three: A Chronicle That Was Forgot**

**{XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX}  
~ Narnia ~**

It took some time, but finally she found Caspian. He was talking with Suncloud in regards to bandits and thieves on the return journey, as they were removing a large portion of Narnian wealth. Though peace had been declared between the peoples, there were not yet a great many Telmarines above stealing some unaccounted Narnian riches to deepen their coffers. Susan waited until Caspian began moving away, leaving the Centaur to his task. When he did, she spoke.

"Caspian, I need you to come with me, now; I don't believe I should do this alone." She turned and proceeded to walk back the way she had come, leaving him momentarily motionless with her cryptic words. After mulling over what she'd said, he followed her, his unending curiosity giving way at last.

"Susan, it surely could not be as mysterious as you make it. What is down here that you do not have at least some knowledge of?" he asked lightly as he made his way to where she stood, careful not to step on or break some treasure or precious trinket which time had strewn thoughtlessly about the ground.

"This." She entered the doorway, disappearing into the blackness beyond.

Realizing they would need something by way of light to illuminate their path, Caspian went and retrieved a torch from a bracket on a far wall of the treasure chamber. When he ducked through the doorway – he found he was just two or three inches taller than the entrance – the flame of the torch brightened the shadows considerably. Susan stood on his right, and she surveyed the room with amazement equal to his own.

Along one wall they could vaguely make out great chests; what they contained the monarchs could only guess at. But all around them were things belonging to a day and age Susan knew well and once loved dearly. Great urns stood on pale marble pedestals veined with gold; along another wall dozens of, at one time quite fine, banquet chairs were lined.

A maroon and gold chaise, the fabric covering it now rotting off and the dark wood warping, supported the great bulky objects Susan had stumbled into when she had first entered the room. Approaching them now, she supposed they were frames of some sort. The coverings were of heavy canvas, most likely used to protect whatever was underneath.

"What are they?" Caspian voiced her previously unuttered question, lifting the torch he held higher.

"I have a vague idea. . . I think. . ." She trailed off, moving over to them. A sort of unyielding desperation filled her, and she began attempting to remove the heavy canvas from the foremost frame. Common sense could have told her that she was too slight to pull the material off the four by six frames, but she was well past reason.

Sighing, Caspian moved to the wall and fixed the torch into a bracket. "Susan, wait a moment, it's too heavy; I'll do it." So saying, he strode over and managed to jerk the material off and throw it from them a bit. Now the painting could be viewed, for a painting it was indeed. He stepped back, coming to stand at Susan's side.

It was a woman. Quite a beautiful one by many men's standards. Her bearing in the painting was regal, and the artist had painted her so that the figure's presence in the room seemed to require attention, though it was not demanding. Time had slightly worn the elegantly carved wooden frame, but it had not faded the oils used to color this canvas. Her hair, even in this dark room, Caspian could see was a light auburn, and it was worn in a similar fashion to how Susan had styled her's at a recent ball.

He glanced over at Susan for a moment before returning his gaze to the mystery noble woman; he could not assume her anything less from her clothing, which was a rich blue color with delicate golden trim along the neckline. Also offering support to this supposition was the coronet of golden rose buds and leaves settled in her hair. The simple wreath of precious metal recalled to Caspian's mind a similar one Susan wore on festive occasions, though hers was wrought in the images of sunflowers and vines.

"Who is she?" he finally asked, breaking the silence that had settled over them.

"I. . . I can't believe it– After all these years. . ." She whispered the words almost as if she were in a dream – as if he had not uttered a syllable – and because of this, Caspian turned his attentions to her fully.

"Susan, _who is she_?" He requested the information with more force behind his words, hoping that she might pause in her memories long enough to shed some light into his shadowed knowledge.

"This was Peter's queen . . . Amalia." Susan spoke softly, with a catch in her voice, and Caspian watched her lightly place her hand over her mouth as if to stem a yet-to-be cry of sadness. But for Caspian, Susan's words were an unexpected surprise.

"I did not know he was married. . . It was never in any book or tale I'd heard," he remarked, feeling somehow cheated of knowledge that could have better helped him understand the High King whose company he had recently lost little more than two fortnights past. He was not aware of the confusion and regret on his face, but Susan noticed it.

"No, I expect not," she murmured, tears making her voice unsteady.

"Why?" he queried, unable to keep the barest trace of anger from his tone. Why had someone so important to one of the greatest Narnian kings been forgotten from songs and tales; from books and studies? She had been a queen consort at one time; her coronet was evidence of this enough– she had been married to the only High King of Narnia! Caspian could not understand, and felt wanting. But Susan did not answer him; instead she went over to the rest of the paintings and began pulling on their covers.

Moving rapidly, his anger and bewilderment empowering him, he aided Susan in her almost desperate attempt to take the last cover from the fourth portrait; the rest were behind these heavy frames and canvases, and Caspian knew it would require at least three strong Narnians to move them. He stepped back from this final one, for here were more people he had not heard of in Narnian history– posing with the High King.

The seated woman he could well identify, for she had been the same woman in the first painting. But the two blonde children were strangers. The boy stood beside Peter – who Caspian assumed was his father – and a young girl was held in Amalia's lap. He turned to Susan, and noticed that her cheeks glistened with tears. A soft cry came from her as she set her eyes also on the portrait. Finally, he could take this no more.

"Susan, who were these people and who was Queen Amalia; why have they been forgotten and what became of them when the Telmarines invaded? I want to _know_," Caspian demanded, restraining his growing desire to sound outraged. After all, it was not his right to have heard of them before. At last, Susan turned to look at him. But, her gaze fell past him, to a smaller portrait; this one of a blond young man dressed in clothes of court, a crown of gold on his head also.

However, it was what lay behind the painting that she wanted. Brushing lightly past Caspian, her hand momentarily resting on his arm as if in sympathy, she knelt and drew a small chest – about six inches by one foot – out. Coming to stand just behind her, Caspian regarded the container. It was about a foot deep, and he knew that it could only contain scrolls or parchments. It was similar to the chest his father had once placed important documents in.

"Susan, what are you doing?" he asked softly, perceiving that she was searching for something she considered far more important than telling him backstories of persons long since deceased.

She glanced up at him. "I hope that there is something within this that will tell me the identity of this young man here, and what befell Amalia and the children," she answered haltingly, her voice still trembling from emotion. He looked again at the chest.

"Well, you will never get that open, it has been padlocked," he noticed, nodding his head towards the object in question.

"Then we must break it, for I will not wait to discover answers!" she replied passionately, shaking her head just a bit as she spoke to show that his words did not weaken her intent.

Caspian sighed, though he himself was far more curious than any stranger would be. "Hold it steady, then, and I'll see if I can't break it." He motioned for her to steady the chest before he brought the heel of his boot down on the old lock. It gave easily under the impact, and as he knelt beside Susan, she opened the lid with grand excitement and impatience. But instead of reaching quickly for the documents within, like he had expected, her hands came into her lap, and she only stared at them.

"Susan? What are you waiting for?" he encouraged, lifting an eyebrow slightly, looking over at her.

"It's in Tumnus' handwriting. . ." she breathed, moving her hand to lightly brush her fingers over the scrolls and edges of parchment sheets. "Oh, how I miss him." As she spoke, she carefully removed a small stack of parchment sheets; the topmost one was nearly empty except for a few lines in the middle written by a flourishing, though meticulously neat, hand. The pages beneath had been penned by another; certainly it was not the Faun. The ebony script on these sheets was thick, elegant, and written by a steady and resolved hand.

"_Oh!_ Edmund's unfinished manuscript of the Lone Island Affair," she whispered, reading the Faun's words on the first page.

"_Edmund_ wrote this?" Caspian looked up in surprise as she handed him the parchment stack. She smiled fondly.

"He wrote many, many things. He was an artist with the pen. He learnt from Tumnus that matters were not to be remembered lightly, and that everyone and every object under high-heaven had a story behind them. I will not forget his plays and songs!" Her voice was distant and light; Caspian could tell she was remembering.

"Is what you sought here?" He brought her back to what they had originally been wanting.

"Oh, thank you. . . Let me see. . ." Susan drifted off, fingering her way with great care through the parchments beneath the scrolls, which she had removed first and placed carefully in a pile on her right.

"Ah! Here is perhaps what we are searching for!" she exclaimed at last with a measure of triumph in her voice. Neat script that Caspian was beginning to associate the Faun, Tumnus, with, lined the page. And there, with great detail, was a final account of the declining years of the Narnian monarchy that Susan earlier in the day had so wished to have.

**_'The year of our lord King Lucian the Lionhearted, and they year of our lady Queen Lilianna the Fair, 1051.' _**

**_'This has been a time of most grievous sorrow. After all the lives and blood our departed king and queen –Aslan be with them– spent to ensure Narnia's protection from Telmar, we are still lost. It comes that with the death of King Marin also is the death of Narnia's peace; peace hard-fought and hard-won by many brave souls. Those of us yet remaining to protect what our upright and unyielding monarchs died for on the plains of war, do commit these documents into this chest for their protection and the hope that long after we have been interred unto the earth they shall survive us as the last accounts. _**

**_'A messenger has arrived; the Telmarine armies are crossing the Great River and shall in less than a fortnight be gathered on the road and fields before Altair and Cair Paravel; this glorious and most radiant symbol of Aslan's power, and the strength of His will behind our kings and queens shall soon fall to men of great tyranny. I fear for the generations that will go on after we have died, for it is certain they will not rest secure as we once did, knowing that a righteous monarch resides over them in a rule blessed by the Great Lion. _**

**_'Unto these usurpers do I say, "Come! Do to us what you will, for we shall not long sleep reluctant and uneasy while you desecrate our lands and burn our habitations! Again will dawn a noble man or woman to vanquish your deceit and treachery!" I pray Aslan soon remove me from this life, for I have but one great hope remaining: that I go into that far and noble Country to be with the Great Lion and to stand beside the noblest monarchs I have been fortunate in all ways to best have known. I pray those who have given their lives (and those yet to give them) rest in their graves easy with the knowledge that we place these precious documents here in this chest, and this chest within a secret chamber, until Aslan deems them be found. _**

**_'Forever I pray shall the call ring and echo across these lands. Down with usurpers, up with Aslan and the only true monarchs! For Narnia and for Aslan!' _**

After this came a detailed account of the battles and wars leading up to the siege of Cair Paravel and Altair, in which Caspian the Conqueror used a new war machine, catapults, against his enemy. Susan perused it, searching for the listing of the artifacts within this room, and not lists of all that lay beyond it. Finally, after twenty-three pages, she came to one headed with 'portraits'. A smile came to her face as she began, overjoyed that several paintings of herself and her siblings had survived thousands of years and many wars; but her happiness faded from her face when she read on.

"This was Lucian," she murmured, looking up at the young king who had been painted in his finest so long ago. Studying it, she began to notice how alike he and Peter were– especially now that Peter was a much younger man. "Lucian was Peter's first child, and only son. He was an intelligent, quiet boy; much like Edmund, surprisingly. We all adored him," Susan added, her eyes brightening at her memories.

"And he was killed by one of _my_ ancestors," Caspian answered grimly, turning his head away with reluctant resignation. He could not push from his mind that Tumnus considered all of the Telmarines usurpers. Caspian was sure he would not have been forgiven by these Narnians if they could speak to him today. He understood better now why they had declared him punishable for his peoples' crimes that night on Dancing Lawn.

"Oh, Caspian, you must not let that grieve you. For Peter holds worse in his heart: the despair of a father who, though unwillingly, abandoned his children to a far worse fate than simply reliving childhood. This was centuries ago by your time –and quite past you– though all things dictate it should be very much current to me," Susan consoled earnestly, resting her hand over his. He looked back at her.

"Still, I feel that the foolhardiness of my people in invading your lands is upon _my_ shoulders; I am the new king, and I must endure all this from your people who I now rule over. I must listen while they relate of relatives who died in some battle or another, of homes ripped from them by Telmarines, and of how they wish deeply that Telmar had never been allowed by Aslan," he replied in a low voice.

"Enough of sadness and grief, Caspian," Susan murmured with a tentative expression of peace. "You asked of Amalia and who she was. If I remember correctly, I have yet to answer that question. Now, with unearthing this document, I believe I owe you many more explanations, though there are yet some _I_ must seek before truthfully answering yours." She settled herself into a comfortable position on the floor and waited for Caspian to do likewise.

She looked up, as if recalling something. "Oh, this might be a timely story; would such a thing bother you?" she asked, feeling slightly anxious for some reason she could not name. Perhaps it was because she was telling Peter's love story, and felt he should be the one to do so.

"No, it is no bother to me," Caspian answered, shaking his head lightly. Giving him a fleeting smile in return, she began.

"It was just coming into the eighth year of our reign. We ruled well and justly –Peter, myself, Ed, and Lucy– and were in great favor with our subjects. It was spring at this time, and I had arranged a festival in one of the few villages– it was along the Glasswater, and as such was called by the same name. Peter had been adamant against going; he and Edmund very often were, and the former confided in me the whole way that he disliked attending functions apart from Cair where he could easily slip away unnoticed if the female population became too aggressive.

"I continually cast his voiced agonies and contempt off my shoulders, knowing that we were in Narnia, not Archenland or Calormen, and human women were rather scarce; especially in Glasswater of all places! Yet that was where Peter met her, Amalia," Susan paused, recalling the day in her mind's eye. "She was dancing in the square. I remember because hers were among some of the more graceful of movements. Rhythmic and flowing. She was dressed in sky-blue, and had a wreath of mint and rosebuds in her unbound hair.

"I had not believed Peter to care much for the female species, since he and Edmund were almost constantly carrying on about how they did not wish to marry but for love, and that none of the women who ever came before them cared about love; all _they_ wished for was a handsome king and a glittering coronet. I told him to consider the women like enemy on the fields of battle– he could always handle things in military allegories." At this Caspian chuckled slightly, feeling gravely sympathetic for the High King's plight. He was himself similarly uneasy of strange women.

Susan carried on, "He danced with Amalia far more than he should have, but I failed to notice it with all that I had on my hands. Believe you me, a much-distracted Just King and a lively Valiant Queen are not simple things to juggle at such an occasion. Lucy I can understand, but Edmund puzzles me even now, since I dwell on it again. I have no excuses for his character and display," she admitted with a slight frown.

"Nevertheless, I should have known after our horses broke loose and Amalia helped recapture Peter's that his view of her would change. His mount was not easily collected," Susan informed, "But I had many of my own concerns to muse over, and soon forgot my displeasure at Peter dancing a little too much with a maid of seventeen who had no notable birth or good connections to speak of besides being raised by Lord Roulf, a Galmanian-turned-Narnian. Along with the rumor that she was the missing princess of Galma." Caspian frowned, so Susan saw fit to detail.

"Around the year 993, Galma –which was in Jadis' day a kingdom and not an island run by a duke or count– there was a rebellion instigated against the royal family by a group of rogues banished from the Telmarine colony in the north– even your people have limits to what is noble and what is evil. Before any of the royals of Archenland of Terebinthia could sail, the Galmanian monarchy was assassinated; except for the youngest princess. It was supposed that she had been spirited away to Archenland –which is more likely than Narnia, since Jadis killed all humans– and survived.

"It was believed widely to be a fairy story, and as such, was told to children at bedtime. It had become much romanticized in the fourteen years since the Galmanian rebellion. I regarded it as nothing, though for years Lucy loved hearing the tale. I think I remembered it fleetingly that day, since the unmarried young woman was much talked of; apparently she did not often come down to the village with her benefactor and guardian. But I can't honestly recall my feelings.

"After this day I know little; only what I heard from Peter's own mouth. But it was clear that he became infatuated, and she returned his love. I understood from Edmund that they must have spent hours together, with Edmund, at first unknowingly, shielding his brother from being discovered by agreeing that he should remove himself from court for a short time each day to relax and clear his mind. I should think he did," Susan jested with a wry smile.

"This carried on for a year before I discovered it– I learnt at the same time that Edmund had known, uncovered the relationship by spying on Peter, about the entire situation. I was furious. I could not imagine Peter marrying a maiden seven years his junior; it was almost a thought not to be born. I knew she was well past the age when she should have been married off; yet I could not, in the beginning, fully condone the union. It took me some time to accept that there was more in Peter's life besides the kingdom, the people, and us: his siblings.

"They married during the summer after two years of courting– one of which was done in almost complete secrecy. I believe now that I was angry with Peter, and that's why I quickly replied and accepted Prince Rabadash's invitation to come to Tashbaan. So he might 'attempt to woo me' with his country, as he wrote; though much more elaborately and with far different words. I was angry that Peter had married and kept his romance a secret for so long. I was angry that he was going away into the Northlands to fight Giants when he was newly married.

"His country, his people, and then his siblings; that's how Peter's reign as High King was ordered. Saying it in such a way makes my brother sound cruel and unloving, but he was quite the opposite," Susan recalled. "He doted on us, but he was also honest with us too. It was our kingdom that came before all else, because Aslan trusted us to act in His stead. I tried to assume after I returned that Peter only married Amalia for the prospect of heirs, but he was affectionate and loving to her long after the children were born.

"It was almost as if they had just married, the way they acted. I know Edmund and Lucy didn't mind, but I was extremely jealous of Amalia. She had love that I could only envision in my daydreams. If I was to marry, it was unlikely that it should be for love, since I was a woman, and honest men were so rare to come across. But that is not part of this story," she acknowledged, glancing at Caspian with happiness in her eyes.

Then she sighed, and a look of thoughtful reflection came over her face. "You know, I can see it far more clearly now, after so much time away. Out of all my life with him thus far, I believe he was happiest and most alive when he had Amalia beside him. It was well into our sixteenth summer that Peter gave her a silver locket as an anniversary gift. And then. . ." she drew off, a pang in her chest reminding her of all that had been lost with returning to England.

"And then you fell through the wardrobe," Caspian finished, knowing this part of history with accuracy since the Pevensies had returned. Lucy had told him over and over after he had been crowned about how she and her siblings had gone back to their world through a wardrobe.

"Yes," Susan confirmed, sighing again. She shifted in her place a bit, as if gathering her remaining strengths to tell the end of the story. "We fell through the wardrobe on a hunt for the White Stag. Three days before, Amalia had given Peter her locket as a sort of talisman that he should return safe home, though I believe she gave it as an offering of luck in our hunt. It was still in Peter's pocket after we fell into the spare room." After this statement there quiet for a long while, both monarchs lost on different plains of thought.

"So now you know the forgotten chronicle of Peter the Magnificent and Amalia of Glasswater." Her hand still remained over his, and now she clasped it gently, watching him.

"I. . . I never thought. . ." he trailed off, realizing why the High King had reacted to this vastly different Narnia as he had. Why he had been so outraged against the Telmarines– Caspian included. Peter had lost something most dear and precious to him: his family. It was one of the great losses and Caspian could not fathom it, since he had not been of an age to fully understand what the deaths of his mother and father meant when they had occurred.

"Caspian, I should like to have as many of these portraits brought back to Zadvede as possible; do you think that would be all right or should it wait?" she regarded him with care, feeling hesitant to even suggest it since it was not why they had come at all. But Caspian looked over at her, nodding.

"I do not see why we can't. I'll find the Narnians and we'll confer with Suncloud. But I'm certain that it will not be a great thing," he replied, moving to stand. Once he did, he helped her up so they might leave. Carefully, Susan returned all the pages and scrolls to the chest and then closed the lid, turning to follow after Caspian.

Today had been among the days in this new Narnia that she had least expected.

* * *

**A/N: **

**Now, I know I promised twice a week, but this is one of the rewritten chapters that I'm especially pleased with. The original was so horrible that I cringed throughout the rewrite process. (_In case I haven't told everyone: Zadvede is what I'm calling the Telmarine castle at Beaversdam. I feel uncomfortable with calling it Beaversdam since the Telmarines probably didn't._) **

**What I was implying in the writing about Peter's family being unheard of until this moment is so nothing about the books changes. Nothing about the films changes either. The only other thing I care to mention is that I have sort of "my own" Narnian timeline. (Before I knew there was one already I invented one to help me as I wrote.) **

**Happy reading, (and remember that answers can be found via PM to me or in an A/N for guest reviewers)**

**WH **


	4. Worlds Apart, yet So Close

**Chapter Four: Worlds Apart, yet So Close**

**{XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX}  
~ England, Hendon House ~**

Three weeks after the radiance and wonder that was Narnia found Peter sitting in English class unsuccessfully taking in what his teacher was attempting to teach in regards to William Shakespeare. The former –at least in his eyes, no matter what Aslan decreed– High King found the poet and playwright barely tolerable compared to Narnia's plays and verse. Especially when he equated the man's works to Edmund's in his head. His brother was matchless in this world, though only one of many, _many,_ greats in Narnia. The Just King was apparently exceedingly clever at hiding his talent for the pen and paper here, Peter concluded.

"There are many suppositions as to why Shakespeare wrote such star-crossed plays regarding lovers. But why do you believe he wrote them? Perhaps fate was unkind and dealt him a harsh blow? Perhaps he believed that love was a fool's emotion? Ah, Mr. Pevensie, you appear to be paying strictest attention; why don't you tell us a theorem behind Shakespeare's writings?" Mr. Tibbott, the English teacher, requested seemingly at random. By singling out Peter he was hoping to make a point to the young men in the class, since they seemed to be holding young Pevensie in a sort of respected position.

Instead, the blond boy straightened at his desk and blinked for a moment, appearing lost. "What? What was the question?" he asked, trying to grasp something, though he had almost nothing.

"Shakespeare; his tragic love stories," Mr. Tibbott repeated dryly. A few in the class snickered, but he silenced them with a look.

For a moment, Peter was thoughtful, and just when his teacher began to suppose that he would not answer, he spoke.

"It is of my opinion that the writer was drawing from reality. Not all lovers are ensured a pleasant conclusion to their affair," he paused, thinking. "Real life can destroy or protect your love; it can nourish or deny it. However, I feel that this was little of what he designed from. I am of the opinion that Shakespeare was merely writing for the benefit of the audience. Even so, he gave warning to all who cared to interpret deeply: love does not last, and we must be careful with the time we have been given. For we never know when we shall be robbed of it."

Mr. Tibbett stared at his blond student for a good bit of time; this was a speech he had very much not expected. Nevertheless, he was greatly pleased with it, and, clearing his throat, began to dismiss his students. "Thank you, Mr. Pevensie. Class is dismissed; please remember that tomorrow there will be a quiz on Shakespeare and how he 'enlightened the ages.'" Around the room groans of annoyance could be detected.

As Peter began exiting the classroom, Mr. Tibbott stopped him. "Ah, Mr. Pevensie, that was quite a fine bit of speaking you preformed; I cannot keep back that I am pleased by it."

Peter nodded, giving a hint of a smile, but it did not reach his eyes. "Thank you, sir. It came from the heart," he confided, leaving the room.

**{~~~~X~~~~}**

"So, how goeth thy day, Pete? Mine was passing fair, I should say," Edmund admitted from where he was stretched out on his bed studying. He was tired of reading, however, and had decided to make some sort of conversation with his brother, who was sitting at their only desk, pen in hand, though he seemed to be neither composing a letter nor studying for school. In fact, if Edmund read him right, he was daydreaming.

"Mild, brother, just mild," Peter responded absentmindedly. It was then Edmund noticed what he held in his other hand.

"Peter, you must stop thinking of her!" Edmund admonished, rising slowly on the bed to a sitting position. "I know it sounds cruel, but surely you must move on. Have you not forgotten how depressed it makes you to think about her?" He was internally uneasy, knowing just how passionate Peter had been about many subjects in Narnia. In England it was almost no different, except the matters to be passionate over were not what they were in Narnia.

After a good while of silence from Peter, Edmund tried again, with more patience that better befitted his title of Just King. "Peter, I understand you miss her. But it will not return her to you, no matter how you lament your loss. Why not try to remember her fondly?" There was more desperation behind these words than Peter noticed; more emotion.

"I know you're right, but. . . You just can't understand, Ed!" Peter stood, moving to reach for his coat over the back of the chair as he walked toward the door. Edmund watched him in mystification.

"Where are you going? It's late." Mentally, he winced and berated himself as his words echoed in his mind. He sounded like a parent or a supervisor.

"Out for a walk; perhaps it shall cure me of my misery," Peter answered sarcastically, a look of contempt and pain on his face.

Edmund closed the book before him with exaggerated force. Standing and crossing his arms as he slowly began his old habit of pacing, he thought about what had just happened. Finally, after glancing at the door Peter had exited through, he returned to his work. This was going to be a long wait staying up until his brother returned.

**{XXXXXXXXXXXXX}  
~ Narnia ~ **

After coming back from Cair's ruins, Caspian and Susan had gone separate ways to manage the chaos the wealth from the treasure chambers brought with it. Susan had retrieved her chest of gowns, along with a much smaller chest containing all her jewels that had been in the secret room. Caspian had to converse with the Lords of Council, who appeared rather shocked by all the Narnian riches and instantly began talking of dividing it up for some reason or another.

So while Caspian, Trumpkin, and Glenstorm attempted to protect Narnia's treasury, Susan took the chests containing her things and the chest containing the documents from Tumnus; along with having all the portraits brought into a long hall to be tended to after spending so many years in the dark.

Well into the evening, after a simple dinner –Caspian and Susan were adamant that things be quiet after their busy day– Susan sought out Caspian; she had something she wanted to show him; something she had been careful not to let him see at the ruins. Now, skirts in hand, she hurried up stairs and down stairs before finally finding the king on his way to his personal study for an evening drink and a last-minute perusal of a document he would be discussing with his lords in the morning.

"Caspian, you must come with me for a moment; there's something I want to show you!" She took his hand excitedly. Laughing and with a benevolent smile on his face, Caspian allowed himself to be led.

"It would appear that I have no choice in the matter," he answered as she led him up a flight of stairs. Susan's response was to glance back at him, pause for a moment to catch their breath, and then hurry on.

Finally she led him into a long hall where it appeared she would have the paintings hung as soon as their cleanings and repairs were finished. Leaving his side, she walked up to one of them. "What do you think of this one? Has it done justice, do you think?" she asked carefully, motioning to it with a bright expression.

Caspian came up to view it better, and the sight caused him to remain quiet, regarding the portrait for a long while.

It was of Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy; well into their rule so as to make Edmund and Lucy almost completely unrecognizable. Even Peter was a good deal different in physical appearance. It was only Susan, sitting in front of them all, who looked remotely close to how she did now.

Her dress was a green so deep it reminded him of the forests outside Zadvede in summer. It was trimmed, lined, and embroidered with gold that was only accentuated by the coronet upon her head. The same coronet she wore to balls now. Against the chair she sat in leaned her gifts from Father Christmas; he noted that they were still stunning today as they had been then.

The Narnian Queen's long raven hair, fashioned in a style of yesteryear, fell well onto the floor, carefully positioned to pool around the edges of her skirt and the legs of the chair. Another thing of note was the singular piece of jewelry she wore: a medallion on a golden chain around her neck, gilded to appear in the likeness of a blazing sun.

Caspian's eyes moved to the figure standing behind her. Easily, which surprised him, he knew it was Peter. Something about the weighty blue gaze; the artist had managed to capture the High King's personality in those penetrating eyes. His blond hair was just short of brushing his shoulders, and his beard was well trimmed. The shirt Peter wore was a blue the deep color of the midday sky, embroidered with gold on the collar and chest.

The infamous Rhindon was at his side, and Peter's hand rested easily upon it. Dark brown riding boots with doe-brown breeches tucked into them completed his style. It was simple, and it was acutely Peter. His golden crown matched the medallion around his neck, which bore a unicorn's noble head.

Edmund, standing beside his brother, was fully and completely different from him. Caspian understood the remarks of the Narnians when they had been encamped in the How; the kings were as different from one another as night was from day. Dressed unlike his siblings in the scarlet and gold of Narnia atop black breeches and knee-high boots, he held one greatsword with its point to the floor while a second was sheathed at his side. Named Vermogen and Besterik; Caspian recalled the king telling him about them once.

Edmund's ebony hair was long, and waved around his clean-shaven face; his pale skin made his brown eyes appear to hold secrets and mystery as they stared out from the painting. Black locks contrasted with the silver of his crown and medallion, the gryphon upon the circular piece of metal was barely to be determined. He was by a slight difference taller than Peter, Caspian noticed, smiling at the fact. Where Peter seemed a man of action and war, Edmund did not; his whole countenance displayed reserve and thoughtfulness.

And then there was Lucy, who was not in any way less significant than her elder siblings. Her light eyes were bright, and the artist had captured the fact that she was innocently earnest and believing even then, when she was a woman grown. Her hair was sun-kissed and golden-brown, contrasting radiantly with her silver coronet and medallion around her neck; a lioness' maw open in silent roar upon it.

Her dagger at her fingertips and her cordial at her waist, she seemed to him the perfect ideal of what the grown figure of the little girl he had met should look like. Her hair was not free, like her sister's, and instead came away from her face in the neat yet elegant form of braids, as if she were ready for the call of battle in a moment's notice.

Finally, finishing his perusal of the painting, he spoke to Susan. "You seem every bit the kings and queens I expected. You look as monarchs of Narnia ought to look, I believe." He was quiet for a moment, gazing at the canvas. "But why do you all wear these different symbols? What do they mean, for I thought the lion was Narnia's emblem?" He glanced over at her, confusion in his eyes.

Susan smiled at his words, and was quite ready to explain. "There were four of us, and, as you can imagine, it was difficult to determine who had sent what or who had ordered this and that. Finally, after enough confusion, we sat down and drew up these medallions– I should say Edmund devised the idea." She studied the figure of the Just King with Caspian. "We had our own flags and belongings with our symbols on them, branding them as ours and not another's. However, the scarlet and gold flag bearing Aslan's figure was and is the acclaimed flag of Narnia," she summed up, glancing at Caspian as she did.

"Fascinating, I did not know; but it does explain Edmund's love of gryphons during the revolution," he realized, nodding with a subtle gesture to the medallion around the Just King's neck.

Caspian moved closer to the painting, feeling the familiar ache inside that came with seeing them as kings and queens of the past. They held themselves in the portrait as confidant and assured; ready to rule. Peter knew that his country came first, and made such things clear to his siblings. Caspian did not feel that way. He didn't feel ready for this task; ready for the difficulties and trials. And they had been _younger_ than he was now when they began to rule; how could that be?

He sighed; suddenly feeling tired and in need of the missing evening's drink. Susan, having drifted from his side to another painting, did not notice his expression of absolute perturbation.

"I still have one other for you to see, so do not become too infatuated with that one!" she called gaily, motioning with great animation for him to come to the one she now stood in front of. Resolutely, he came to her bidding.

It was of Susan alone, standing before a window overlooking both the ocean and the craggy shoreline. He supposed her to be about three or four years older than she looked now, since there was not as great a difference in her appearance as there had been in the first portrait. It was also easier to suppose her age because the length of her hair was hardly past her waist.

"You are beautiful. Why hadn't you married?" he asked, now looking at Susan.

Susan herself felt slightly off-put by the question. No one had ever asked her that particular one before. Yes, Peter and Edmund had danced around the edge of it every now and then, but they had never actually broached it. This was the first time she had heard it spoken in such a direct manner as to be unavoidable.

Finally, she felt as if she had an answer to give that made enough sense. "Because, of all the men who asked for my hand, I never felt that they were _right_ for me. It seemed as if all they cared for was that I was beautiful, rich; a queen with a title and a great deal of landed property. All their endeavors to obtain my hand made me feel as if I were some prize to be won. If that makes any sense," she finished, feeling self-conscious.

Caspian studied her momentarily, glanced back to the painting with a thoughtful air to his countenance, and finally kept his gaze on her.

"I believe I know what you mean," he answered finally.

**{~~~~X~~~~}**

Later that evening, just before retiring, Caspian drew Susan out onto a balcony to gaze at the stars overhead as he had done what seemed like years ago with the Professor. Comfortable with one another and with no one around as to deem their actions improper, Susan rested her head on his shoulder and he placed his arm around her waist.

"I feel so close to them, and yet they're worlds away," she murmured, her gaze drifting across the dark sky filled with twinkling lights.

Caspian lifted his head from its comfortably inclined position and looked over at her. "You mean your siblings?" he queried.

"Yes."

"You know, when I was a boy, I used to look up at the stars and dream of following them to the end of the world and finding my father there. I understand what you mean; you feel as if it's so very simple to reach them, but don't have enough of the keys to unlock the way."

"Mhmm," she replied, moving her head slightly against his shoulder in a slow nod of conformation. He pulled her slightly closer, and she allowed it.

"I believe we have surpassed our time here," he declared after a while. "We have another long day ahead of us still." With undisguised reluctance, he began shifting away from her.

"Just a moment longer, Caspian, the stars shine so brightly for us tonight," Susan pleaded, walking slowly to the edge of the balcony and gazing upward with earnest eyes at the night sky with the millions of constellations in it.

**{XXXXXXXXXXXXX}  
~ England ~**

Peter tilted his head to regard the darkened English sky. What was Susan doing at this moment? Was she preparing to marry? Or was she already the wife of the latest king of Telmar; now also of Narnia? Was it day or night in that world? He sighed as the thoughts filled him and overwhelmed his mind.

He was nevermore to feel a Narnian breeze upon his face. Never feel the terror and thrill of going into battle or ride at the head of the ranks as their leader. Never again would he face a winter and thank Aslan that they had rid Narnia of an eternal one. Never would he have the concerns of a king for his country.

"What is this life if it's without Aslan and Narnia?" he demanded of the cool night air.

He paused before uttering another syllable when he realized he had managed to exit Hendon's grounds and was now on the streets. Turning to assess where he was, a small church came into full view. It was then that the words Aslan had told to him and Susan returned to his mind.

_"In your world I have another name; you must learn to know me by it." _

What if . . . ? No, it was not so easily possible; it couldn't be! _'But why shouldn't it?' _his mind argued.

_'What have I to lose?' _he decided at last. He began crossing the dark, nearly empty street to the softly-lit church. As he opened the door, a strange sensation met him; the likes of which he had only felt once, when Aslan had told him he was meant to be king and that he should learn to hope. It was such a calming, regal feeling; he had no idea how to describe it.

It wasn't Narnia, the king knew he could never hope to find something so fulfilling, but it was . . . almost peaceful. He felt that, for a brief moment, his Narnian soul had found a semblance of rest.

* * *

**A/N: **

**Ah, here is the _much_ better chapter four! Not so long and boring anymore. . . In the original, I've realized that Peter's issues, because I was going through something similar at that point, are not very consistent and clear. Now that I can step back and see things, I think I've bettered his scenes. **

**If you have questions, I'll read them in the review or if you want, you can send a PM. And, of course, I can always offer the original author's notes. Happy reading, **

**WH**


	5. I Will Be With You

**Chapter Five: I Shall Be With You**

**{XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX}  
~ Narnia ~**

Susan studied the reflection looking back at her in the mirror of her dressing table. Had she truly been here for just over five months? That was, of course, if she counted the revolution among her days. Again, she tucked a curl behind her ear, only to pull it back beside her face a moment later, undecided about which way she liked better.

She was joyful, but also filled with anxiety; though she supposed that was because of the way the Telmarine lords looked at her whenever she joined Caspian in the Council. How would they regard her now, since she was joining Narnia and Telmar through marriage? Before, they had a chance to return to the old ways– though it was a very slight chance; nevertheless it was there for all to view critically. Now they could hardly suggest something to Caspian during Council in any subtlety without her interjection. It was not a thought to calm her nerves, but still it must be thought.

It was these things that caused her to stare into the mirror at her reflection though she did not really see herself; this was how her handmaiden, and friend, found her. Belén was a young woman who had taken an avid interest in the Narnians, as many of the younger generation Telmarines had, and so when none of the older women stepped up to apply for the position of lady's maid to Queen Susan, she did so eagerly. She felt that it was a special privilege to work with someone like Susan, and so the two had built up a steadily growing friendship these past months since Susan had decided to stay.

"Why do you seem so far off? This is a day you should only be rejoicing on, Milady," Belén declared kindly, smiling at her lady in the mirror as she fixed a pin better into the piled waves and curls of Susan's hairstyle.

"Oh? Yes, yes, I know, but there are things I cannot help but wonder over, Belén," Susan replied, at first a bit absently.

"Milady, one does not have their wedding every day. Lay all your troubles aside, even if you can only do so for but a short while," the maid advised, placing her hand comfortingly over Susan's shoulder and giving it a light squeeze of reassurance. It reminded Susan of something Lucy would do, and she smiled fondly at the memory.

After deeming her hair as finished as it could become, Susan stood, careful to keep back the train of her gown from the arms of the chair. Belén brushed her fingers over the gown's sleeves –they were long, sheer, and split at the shoulder– seeing that they hadn't become wrinkled. After similar minute checks, she stepped back. "You are as perfect as I can deem, Milady. Truly, you are beautiful," the handmaiden praised with a smile.

Susan felt a light blush creep up her neck and into her cheeks at the praise. "And you are so kind to help me," she returned gently and with all honesty.

The dress had been Amalia's and she'd decided to wear it in memory of her– Susan had been taken aback at seeing it in perfect condition in one of the trucks, preserved in several fabrics and not so yellowed as she had thought it should surely be. She hoped Peter would have agreed, and that her dear friend would have allowed her the use of the wedding gown. If Peter had stayed, though, Susan knew she wouldn't have been able to don it. He could not yet think of that past life without great pain.

"Milady, you should not dally any longer; a bride cannot be late to her own wedding!" Belén cautioned with an excited smile.

Weddings were just as celebrated and received in the Telmarine culture as they had been in the Narnian, and in the English. Belén was doing quite well controlling her impatience and excitement to leave and go watch the wedding take place. However, Susan was certain that there would be many noblewomen who witnessed it with frustration and slight jealousy. A king was a high prize indeed; especially Caspian, as he was young and, for the moment, could be rather easily led into a difficult situation without much coaxing.

"You're right, Belén, but I don't think that there is any bride who is not nervous on her wedding day!" Susan laughed, for a brief moment wished dearly that her mother could be here with her; and Lucy. '_Mum always talked about this day with a glow in her eyes and such a beautiful expression,'_ she thought. Susan's heart ached that Helen Pevensie would never get to see her oldest daughter in the dream she had always envisioned.

"You have a fine man you are marrying – a _king,_ no less! – and you are not a silly woman, if I may say, Milady. You know what you are about and are not afraid to voice what is right, though the entirety of my people stand against you as they stood once against their king," the maid admitted prudently, momentarily lowering her eyes.

"That was indeed kind and considerate, Belén," Susan replied, reaching out to hug the maid with warmth.

"You and your people deserve kindness from my people wherever they can acquire it, Milady; now, you _truly_ _must_ be off!" She looked up and then began ushering her queen out the chamber door while Susan smiled and laughed merrily.

As she walked down the quiet hall from her chambers, she paused to look into a mirror. She felt slightly strange, since she was not wearing her coronet. That was what made her uneasy, she realized as she walked on; this was the first time in Narnia that she had not worn her symbol of Aslan's blessing to any public assembly or festival. As she descended the first flight of many stairs to the main hall on the ground floor of Zadvede, she thought about the reason.

She was Queen of Narnia, but not of Telmar. Caspian had come to discuss it with her days before, explaining that he, Lord Glondäl, Cornelius, and Trumpkin thought it best if she was made queen of Telmar at their wedding. They refused to tell her why, and that worried her. All Caspian had said was that they believed it would better unite the Narnians and the Telmarines. At Caspian's coronation, Aslan had bestowed on him the right to rule, and given him Peter's blessing to be king of Narnia, since they had thought there would not be a ruler from the country marrying him.

Susan smiled wryly, feeling rather tense at the thought. And slightly annoyed. She hadn't dwelt on it very much in England or in her past life as Queen of Narnia, but she was rather against the idea of needing a man to do anything for her. She didn't realize just how 'free-spirited' she was until now, when she had to rely on Caspian's knowledge combined with the other Narnians' and Lord Glondäl's. It was a troubled spot, so she had tried not to think on it too much; now it was rather unavoidable.

She looked up as the bottom of her silken slipper came to the final step before the main hall. Ahead of her were the doors, on the other side of which Caspian would be standing waiting for her. Her heartbeat increased, and suddenly she needed the stone banister to support her. Was this a mistake to unify so completely with the Telmarines? She laughed softly at her fears, earning guarded stares from the soldiers waiting to open the great doors, but in her mind echoed Edmund's words about Rabadash and Calormen.

_"And you are certain, sister, that unity with a country – and a man – we have labored so arduously and so extensively to maintain detachment from is the selfsame country you now aspire to unite Narnia and yourself with irrevocably?"_

His words rang clear again, now that she could distance herself from her feelings and emotions to see the picture for its entirety and not just as a small segment at a time. Her feelings for Caspian were genuine –of that she had no doubt– but did she want to take this step of becoming fully and completely under his control? She suddenly understood what Peter had been saying before he'd left. He had foreseen something like this, she realized now with chagrin, and had not been able to tell her directly what he felt because of the abruptness of her decision.

_'Why did you not think to consult Edmund about it beforehand at the __least__, you thoughtless girl?' _she chided herself harshly. The sharp sound of wind catching the edge of a pendant caught her attention, and as she looked toward the open balcony which gave an overview of Narnia from the cliff edge of Zadvede, a sense of calm filled and overwhelmed her pleasantly.

This was not an arranged marriage; no, she had chosen for love as she had always wished. Caspian was not a tyrant, as his uncle and ancestors before him, so she could not place doubt of his character into all this. These were her own fears and nightly terrors assailing her as they had always done when she witnessed a marriage or thought of the topic. This was a step she didn't know, and it scared her, she realized. For the first time, she had to rely in someone besides herself or one of her siblings or Aslan– even they were not as trusted as she so heavily relied in herself.

_'I would not feel like this if I believed in Aslan as Lucy does,' _her mind conjectured. At that thought, she felt as if regret had pierced her heart. If she trusted as Aslan wished she trust and hope –if she trusted and hoped as Lucy, Edmund, and Peter did– then perhaps she would not feel so alone. Perhaps she would not worry like this. _'Oh, Aslan, I'm so sorry.' _She understood now. Yet, peace and relief still filled her. She had not taken this step before, but she didn't have to be alone. A soft smile came to her face, and she walked to the doors. With a nod to the soldiers, they opened, revealing ahead of her Aslan, a thrones on the dais, and directly on her left, Caspian.

Her people cheered, the Telmarines watched, but she focused solely on the warmth in Caspian's dark gaze. It was nothing like Rabadash's. When her eyes darted a glance at Aslan, she thought that He knew what she felt. Why had she ever thought no one understood? She smiled, walking forward to take Caspian's arm after he bowed to her.

**{~~~~X~~~~}**

Susan slipped her fingers into Caspian's hand as they walked arm in arm about the ballroom that evening, paying respects to all their guests. He had kept her by his side throughout the evening, and she had been pleased, though she couldn't explain why. The thought caused a smile to come to her lips again, and this time Caspian caught it when he glanced over at her as they moved off from a Telmarine lord and his wife.

"Why are you smiling?" he asked, looking down at her as he smiled too.

She laughed softly before replying, "I have not felt so happy in such a long time; I never believed I could be this content here in Narnia. Don't ask why, please," she begged lightly, "because I don't think I can admit my reasons yet."

He nodded in respect, but stopped, bringing her around until she stood in front of him, her hands in his. "I could tell you that I was thinking something very similar," he admitted softly. He tilted his head until they were almost forehead to forehead, gazing back at her. She took her hands from his and wrapped them around his neck, feeling as if she could pass from this world contented from such happiness as she felt.

"You are the strongest, most beautiful and wonderful woman I have ever had the pleasure of knowing intimately, no matter what age or century you have lived," he whispered. As they kissed, she believed that she could never feel so much bliss as she did in this moment.

* * *

**A/N: **

**As you can see, I decided to expound more on the wedding, but not much. I really wanted to capture Susan's feelings, I realized, coming back to the original chapter (this was initially part of chapter 2), but I did not do that well. I'm still toying with the idea of Susan not really loving Narnia as her siblings did, but only staying there because of them, which is what she means when she tells Caspian she never thought she could be happy in Narnia. **

**Ya'll know what to do if you have questions: Review or PM! Until then, h****appy reading,**

**WH **


	6. A Moment For Dreaming

**Chapter Six: A Moment for Dreaming**

**{XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX}  
~ England, St. Finbars School ~**

_Nobody ever said it was easy. No one ever said it would be this__** hard. **__Oh, take me back to the start!_

She longed to go back to the beginning if it meant she could choose to do things differently. But more than that, she wished they could have all their adventures in Narnia over and over again; to relive them when it was just Peter, her, Edmund, and Susan to worry over and all they needed was Aslan to keep them together and strong. But, even after she yearned for such a thing, she knew she couldn't. And that filled her up and overflowed, saddening her.

Lucy turned her head form her studying to look out the window at the rain beyond the panes of glass. She wondered why Aslan hadn't called them back yet. How much time was He going to let drift past before they could return? Oh, it was so hard to wait when you knew the matter was sure! She didn't know how Edmund could contain himself, though he probably wrote to pass the time.

Though she had felt moments ago that nothing could make her smile, that did. She remembered when she had first realized he enjoyed writing; it had been three years into their rule, and she had run into his study unannounced. Only to find him at his desk intently scribbling across a long sheet of cream parchment.

The memory reminded her of the fact that all her brother's writings had been lost in the space of one of their Earthly years. How could fourteen years' worth of writing simply be gone so quickly? She turned her head to look back out at the rain. Why didn't Aslan called them back _now_?

She prayed and wished it would be soon; a few months at most. But she knew she shouldn't get so hopeful; the last time it had been a year between visits, what if this time it were several?

"Oh, that would be awful!" she murmured to the empty room. But Aslan would always wait for the right time, surely? She just had to be patient. Perhaps she might even see Susan again!

"And that is anything but awful," she whispered, a smile coming to her face.

**{XXXXXXXXXXX}  
~ Narnia ~**

Susan and Caspian had been married for just a day short of a week, and they were too caught up in one another and their new life together to see the ominous clouds of hate and betrayal gathering on the golden horizon.

As was the custom, they had been given a reprieve from the duties and responsibilities of king and queen (as much as the Council could allow a reprieve) to adjust to the differences in lifestyle that marriage entertained. Susan declared Caspian's suite of rooms too spartan; though he was not entirely displeased by the changes to his private life that she made, they needed to be adjusted to.

She liked comforters over her sheets – he could not stand them. She asked him to better tame his unruly dark hair – he despised the half hour spent cutting it. He resolved to let it grow long – she said he must tie it back then. She preferred sleeping with every single one of the bed sheets (_and_ the comforter) covering her – he did not think he could endure the heat. She would much rather leave bed before most of the castle was awake – he loathed rising five hours earlier than necessary. He was quiet in the evenings – she enjoyed recounting the day.

**{~~~~X~~~~}**

She sighed softly, moving closer to him on the bed after placing a ribbon in her book and setting the volume on the bedside table. Caspian shifted, putting one arm around her as she rested her head on his chest. Susan tilted her head so that she could look at him, a smile on her face. Absently, her hand reached up to curl a dark lock of his hair around her finger. Caspian encircled her wrist lightly with his fingers, content in the intimacy while he thought about their day.

"I love my gift," she murmured at last, glancing at him.

He smiled slowly. "You do? I'm pleased." As a rather late wedding gift he had brought her down to the stables and shown her a solid grey stallion. Deemed a 'late' gift because it had taken longer for the Calormene horse traders to arrive then they had originally said they would. Afterwards, they had gone out riding, and when they returned Susan promptly declared she had decided on the stallion's name: Glacier.

"It's very beautiful and spirited. I used to have a grey when I first ruled, did you know? He was called Ice." She relaxed comfortably, exhaling softly and closing her eyes.

"I did not know, but it makes me all the more pleased with choosing the grey. I can't explain it you exactly, but something about the stallion's appearance made it seem as if he could belong only to you," Caspian murmured quietly, feeling sleep slowly begin to creep up on his senses.

"Today was a very good day," she breathed.

"Yes."

**{~~~~X~~~~}**

"No, no, you're position is completely incorrect!" Susan laughed, watching Caspian attempt a different stance with the longbow in his hands.

"I was trained by Telmar's finest; I believe a longbow is not entirely different from a crossbow," Caspian protested adamantly. Susan had decided to go out for a practice, as the last time she had actually done so was months before. So now, they stood on a stretch of green in a garden of Zadvede, since the training grounds were outside the village and well past the castle.

"If you were using a crossbow, yes– your stance would be perfect. They do not require so much perfectionism, your bolts and crossbows," Susan replied with an amused smile. "But you are holding a longbow in your hands; the revered tool of Archenlandean horsemen and Narnia's hunters and finest soldiers. For us, your stance is intolerable."

"What do you suggest I do, then?" he asked, lifting a dark eyebrow and gazing at her with more than a bit of sarcasm. Her smile only widened.

"You are very fortunate, dear king; you have a master archeress as your wife." She laughed softly, pulling up her own longbow and arrow into position, her feet squared so that they balanced her, and her shoulders relaxed. He studied her movements, attempting to make them his own.

"That's correct: left foot in front of the right, posed to run toward your target. Shoulders relaxed, not hunched as if rain is rolling down your neck and under you collar." She exaggerated her posture, a skilled teacher. When he finally stood as like to her as she could hope for on the first lesson, she began demonstrating the release of the arrow.

"Do not over-concern yourself with aiming center at your target; it is the greatest mistake. If you take too long in sighting your quarry just so along your shaft, it or he will be gone. You must aim for where it will be if it is moving, or where you are certain it shall be if it does not. Like this." With ease she took another arrow from her quiver, fletched it, looked briefly along the shaft, and released. She did not need to doubt her shot, and, sure enough, it hit dead center.

She looked to Caspian, and he nodded. Lifting the longbow in his hands again, he aimed along the shaft, and then released the arrow, watching it in its arch toward the target. Susan's eyes traveled with it also, and a soft smile of triumph came to her face as it embedded itself just off the mark.

"That was good; very good," she said quietly, looking at him.

"You must know how beautiful you look, standing there," he declared, his voice no longer teasing but honest.

"Oh? I have been told in kind before, by many men; but that was so I might consider giving away property and power. Words lavished upon me praising my beauty do not stir my feelings as they once might have," she answered nonchalantly, busying herself with her bow as if he had mentioned only the weather.

"I want for neither property nor power; I am king of my own country. I only attempt to express my love," he admitted, resting the longbow against a rack and moving closer to her.

"Kings, too, have said the same. But sooner or later they always turn back to what is closest in their hearts: my title." She acted indifferent, as if his words meant nothing. It was confusing to him perhaps, but she wanted Caspian to think past the usual compliments and praises; she had heard scores and learned long ago to tire of them quickly.

"What more can I do, then, that is different from any other? Should I kiss you, only for you to declare that some knight as done better? What could I write that some poet has not already said? I am no singer or songwriter, else I might try," Caspian smiled slightly, and she barely held back her laughter. He suddenly grew serious, his gaze meeting hers.

"But I _can_ say that when I do not see you, I think of you and wonder what you are doing. When you smile, I ask myself how I might keep you smiling forever. When you laugh, I wish it would never stop, or that if it did, it would not be because of something I have done." He captured her hands in his, studying them for a moment before looking into her eyes. "I am not as wise as some; I have not lived as long as you. I cannot express how I care for you as men of old could; but, as ill or lacking as I am in such places, I pray you never misunderstand how I adore you, how I care for you . . . how much love you," he whispered.

"That, dear king, is what no man could dare say without fear of falling prey to the feelings they lock away," Susan whispered back, a smile brightening her serious blue eyes.

"Fine then; I have fallen so far as to make my heart irretrievable from the path," he murmured, bringing her closer until their foreheads barely touched, their dark hair brushing one another's skin.

"I would wish for it to be no other way," she replied, moving her hand up his arm as he kissed her softly.

But on the nearby terrace, less contented eyes watched the couple with hatred, feeling that the union had only destroyed what should have otherwise been a great era. The hooded garments they wore shielded their faces, but nothing could soften the anger of their countenance or the fire in their eyes. "He is a fool," one whispered bitterly, finally admitting what he had been reluctant to see for so long.

"He was doomed the moment he became king; were we not warned he would side with those savage Narnians? And now, as if he thinks it will make _them_ more loyal to him –and pacify the wiser of his people– he has married their queen!" the second sneered.

"Something must be done before he ruins this kingdom with the delusional notion that we can live among these barbarians in peace," the first declared. He had been brought here, this day, in the hopes that he might side with many others who had pledged their loyalty to Lord Sopespian if Miraz could ever be brought down. Now, though, they had another from the line of the Conqueror to destroy before Telmar could return to her rightful glory.

"Oh, a plan of great construction has already been set into motion, Lord Ezmanth, since the very day our king made the fatal misstep of marrying that _woman_." The second man spoke with a vehemence that alarmed the first.

"We were to use no names, how many times did I warn you?" Ezmanth reprimanded sharply, revulsion for the scene before him giving way to fear least they were caught by one of King Caspian's more loyal lords.

"It does not matter; we are alone, excusing the two on the green who cannot hear us. And soon, we shall suffer no opposition," the second man brushed off the warning. "For he shall die," he motioned dismissively at his king, "and she shall die beside him, as any loyal queen should."

"By the gods, I pray you do nothing reckless!" Ezmanth felt something within recoil at the mention of murdering his king. To be thought in the private confines of the darkness of one's mind was one thing, but to actually speak about it in the open made it sound so . . . disgustingly . . . _attainable_.

"Do not judge us now! We shall do what must be done; what is _best_." The second man reprimanded harshly, his voice bearing no extra kindnesses. He focused his dark eyes once again on the scene below. "It shall be left up to us to unite Narnia and Calormen, but after such a cost. . . Oh, to lose our beloved monarchs to a western assassin shall be severe indeed," he declared with mockery.

Lord Ezmanth had heard enough; he could no longer allow for them to stand where all could see, talking of murder of the most egregious kind: death to their monarchs. He would rather die after the treason was committed than for merely discussing it. "Come, let us depart from here before someone sees us," he warned, turning to go.

After gazing at the couple below for a moment longer, the second man finally relented and followed after the first, leaving the king and queen alone.

* * *

**A/N: **

**In this chapter you can most certainly see how far I've come compared to the original, which I'll send anyone who wants to see the differences. The quote at the beginning of this chapter is from Coldplay's _The Scientist, _a song I actually enjoy quite a bit, though originally I saw it on a picture connected to Narnia. I think my favorite part of this is where Caspian's trying to explain his love for Susan; I _had_ to have that. Also, I brought Lord Ezmanth into this earlier than I originally had. Which is better for all concerned, I feel. **

**Susan's teaching instructions on aiming and shooting are a variation of Richard Greene's lines in _The Adventures of Robin Hood_. He tells Sir Giles Black how to properly shoot during a competition between himself and the knight. (The competition was the Sheriff of Nottingham's attempt to capture him outside Sir Richard of the Lea's castle in "_The Challenge._") That scene is also a take on the deleted archery scene between Susan and Caspian in the film. **

**You know what to do regarding questions, so happy reading, **

**WH**


	7. There Is No Arbiter

**Chapter Seven: There Is No Arbiter**

**{XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX}  
~ Narnia ~ **

"Sire, we cannot put it off so dismissively any longer; we must consider alliance with Calormen!" Lord Ezmanth declared, turning from addressing the Council to addressing his monarchs. Though he was privy to some disgusting sentiments about his leaders, he was hoping vainly that he could turn them in favor of the murderous revolutionaries hiding in their ignorant midst.

"That is a foolish move made by weak and foolish men!" Lord Ponessimus disagreed passionately. "You must threaten war if the trade does not continue as before and if the Tisroc refuses to acknowledge your kingship!" he added to cap his protestation.

"Oh, my king, forget Calormen; focus your efforts instead on building an armada of our own and forging our own trade with the south ––"

"No, he should not even consider such an action; we must have Calormen on our side, for protection!" Lord Darrnon exclaimed, interrupting Ringor.

"Why must we consider the Tisroc in our future? We are strong and should not be crippled by relying on some great consuming southern power; for we are _all_ well aware that once Calormen proposes alliance she quickly infiltrates and overruns!" Lord Ringor finished warningly.

"Yet, you have spoken in your argument the very reason we must align ourselves swiftly, before we are seen as enemies, my Lord Ringor! Calormen is _great_!" Ezmanth stressed the word, leaning forward in his place.

"Yes!" several other lords shouted in concurrence.

Then, in the midst of all this, a lone voice rose up. "I believe we are all peering in the wrong direction. While we bicker about Calormen amongst ourselves, we ignore the fact that the Lone Islands have been curiously silent though our king is now supposedly ruler over them." Lord Scythley had finished conversing with Lords Donnon and Vézian, who were all a good deal older and wiser when it came to matters of Council. "I believe our king should be more concerned with this silence then the loud cries of Calormen for attention," he finished calmly.

New arguments sprang from this statement, and all the lords ignored their king's irritated composure.

"My king, what also are we to do about these giants in the Northlands? I have not heard good report from them since the messenger returned with their refusal to agree to peaceable terms." Lord Montoya appeared honestly vexed by the complications, though he tried admirably to seem neutral.

"Should we declare war?"

"Yes, war is the only way!" Several heads nodded around the room.

"But perhaps we have not thought through the matter clearly enough; perhaps tribute to them would be best?" Lord Ethelred suggested.

"No! This country _must_ stand without support; else we will be viewed as no better than serfs!" Lord Glondäl declared with passion. "If we offer tribute to the giants, they too will believe us weak; do you not remember the histories of the giant wars in the Golden Age of Narnia?" he added wisely.

Caspian could only watch them fight, having tried many times to interrupt and share his opinion on some matter or another. Slowly, however, his frustration began to build. Was it _really necessary_ to have all these men fighting with one another, exacting verbal wounds instead of ones by the sword? He thought not. In fact, if he recalled correctly, Peter had not needed this; the High King had merely conversed with his siblings and trusted friends on important matters before acting; couldn't Caspian do the same?

Momentarily he allowed his gaze to fall on Susan, and their eyes met. She noticed the disgust and the frustration, and remembered that feeling when she had been a young queen unable to understand most of the things her people wanted her to do or thought she should do. It had taken years to learn how to explain to them without leaving them feeling slighted by saying that she, ultimately, would decide what she would do.

"Lords of the Council, our King has grown weary of this talk; and though he is far too reserved to express his abhorrence of your arguing, I am not. Narnians are taught honesty, and I give it to you now. What we should do is quite simple: a merchant ambassador must be sent for without further delay from Calormen!" She rose from her seat as she spoke, maintaining an expression of indifference and cool regard. They all quieted and looked at her. "I entreat you now to send for one."

She paused, but no objections arose, only nodding and quiet concurrence with her words. So she continued, "It is not imperative at this time that we build up marine protection; very few of Narnia's neighboring countries have been to the sea to war for centuries. Were battle by sea to happen, we would surely hear of it before it concerned us."

"If Calormen wants a war, we shall give her one; if not, then we shall strive for peace! Only once our King has matters here well in hand will he depart for the Lone Islands to discover why there is no word from them on the good fortune of Narnia. The giants shall be handled accordingly also; we shall settle that at another Council meeting. They can wait for a time. Now, are there to be any more disputes?" She quieted, looking around the room. Silence returned to her.

"Well and good that there are not, for I fear we have exhausted our King with our bickering," Susan dipped her head in silent dismissal, turning her attention from them. Caspian distractedly waved his hand when the lords looked to him, and they began filing out, talking amongst themselves about what the queen had said.

When Susan turned around to her seat, rearranging her skirts so she could sit back down, she stopped, noticing that he was gazing at her with an unfathomable expression. "What is it?" she queried, wondering if he was displeased by something she had said.

"How?" he wondered aloud, appearing completely baffled.

She smiled. "I had many years of practice."

"I have never known them to disperse so calmly, all their issues resolved. Usually they will argue if your decisions are the best on their gentler days," he admitted tiredly. Caspian leaned on the arm of his chair, resting his forehead on his hand, lost in thought, wondering about many other problems still to be resolved.

She studied him, a frown clouding her features. "You're plainly tired, and it is well passed time for the Council to be dismissed besides; come, let's sleep. We are going to have to rise tomorrow and do this over again," she declared at long last, feeling rather tired herself.

**{~~~~X~~~~}**

It was perhaps an hour before dawn when a pounding on their door aroused them from a deep sleep. "Hmm . . . ?" Caspian lifted his head, raking his fingers through his hair as the urgent banging persisted. Susan stirred as he left their bed.

"Caspian, who –?" a yawn broke her sentence, and Susan watched him walk to the door.

He was surprised to open his bedroom door to a Narnian who appeared exceedingly uncomfortable with being there, but also terribly concerned. "What's wrong?" He was instantly on alert, fully focused. It was clear they had not been disturbed for some slight matter.

"Lord Glondäl has been murdered, Sire. We know not by whom, for there was a dagger thrust through his heart in his private chambers and nothing more; no note of warning or a word about him of revenge," the Satyr declared in a rush.

Had he been a weaker man, he might have staggered back against the door frame, but instead Caspian simply stood very still, allowing time for the words to sink in along with what they meant for all his plans regarding Narnia and Telmar. Of all the lords in the Council, Glondäl was the only one who adamantly and vocally supported the unity of Old Narnia with Telmarine customs. He believed that such a political move was possible and often tried to discuss certain aspects of it with Caspian. And now he was dead. . . This was a crushing blow.

"Lord Glondäl. . ." he broke off from his ramblings and met the Satyr's eyes, "Thank you for informing me of this unexpected event; please gather the Council and tell them we are convening." The Narnian nodded and turned to do what he was bid. Slowly, Caspian closed the door and stared blankly at the wood grain.

Susan heard nothing, remaining in the bed in case it was a Lord. But she watched with growing apprehension, for Caspian was not prone to gripping something until his knuckles whitened; nor did he ever act as if he had just been condemned to death, as he was now. "Caspian, what's wrong?" She couldn't sit there any longer silently begging to know.

He did not answer her.

She straightened, proceeding to move the covers off her legs to stand. "Caspian?"

Finally, he turned and began searching for his clothes he had worn the evening before, haphazardly raking his fingers through his dark hair as he talked to himself under his breath. It was almost unintelligible, but it sounded as if he were uttering something like a prayer. "What's happened? What are you not telling me?" She stood on her side of the bed, hesitant to move further.

He looked up at her finally, but his eyes were expressionless, as if he had closed off his emotions. "Lord Glondäl has been murdered. That's all I know, but I feel it was because he supported my plans and beliefs that Narnians and Telmarines could be united." He sounded resolved to the fact; defeated.

"Oh, no, no. . . How can this be happening?" She said the words more to herself than for Caspian's sake. She had endured her share of betrayals and defeats, but nothing had been as grave as this loss. And this death could not have come at a worse time. Hadn't he believed that with Glondäl's support they were not far from achieving their dream?

"I'm calling an assembly. I'd rather you'd stayed here, but if you feel you must, you can accompany me," he said calmly. From the sound of his voice, however, she knew he wished her not to come.

She felt confused, unsettled. It was then she realized that she and her siblings had never had to suffer something so grievous as betrayal from within but one time: Edmund. And he had only done so because he was a little boy, and boys were sometimes far too easily led than they should be. They had never had to deal with assassinations and murders within their people. But. . . he was calling an assembly?

"Wh-why . . . Caspian?" She believed she had never heard her voice more plaintive and lost. But he was leaving now, after someone who supported him had been murdered? If whoever this was had killed a lord, then they would certainly not stop at killing a king; especially one who thought as Caspian did.

Realizing what she meant, he stopped and walked back. Wrapping his arms around her comfortingly, he held her close. "It will be fine. . . We'll be fine," he soothed softly, trying to quell her fears as well as his own nightmares over what the future was becoming. Had she been a weaker woman, he believed she might have sobbed into his shirt. But she was a great lady, a tested queen, and she only trembled for a moment.

"I must go now, but please, don't overly concern yourself. I assure you, I cannot be easily killed." He tried to sound light and unburdened, remembering a night that was still vivid in his mind when he had fled this room for his life.

"And that is why I _must_ worry for you! Every time someone has uttered those words, they end up hurt . . . or dead! Without you I cannot rule this country, your people; at least not the way they are now!" she cried, feeling her fears grow and begin to overwhelm her, burying her common sense and reserve under waves of horrible possibilities; neither of which she could bear to think on for too long.

Caspian forced himself not to respond to her fear with his own. "I will be fine, Susan. No one will hurt anyone in Zadvede as long as I have any say in the matter," he replied firmly.

He was gratified by the fear alleviating some from her eyes, and her fingers easing their grasp on his shirt. "All right . . . I'll stay here then until you return; or until morning, whichever comes first," she decided at last, though reluctant to let him from her sight. At least, as long as they were together, she could be sure of his safety. But for him to be alone with the lords worried her greatly and to say otherwise would be to lie.

He turned to leave, and she followed after him, hugging herself lightly against the coolness of the late spring night. At the door, he turned back to her, his hands lightly at her waist. "I love you." He kissed her quickly, his eyes meeting hers, and then he turned and walked down the corridor.

As she closed the door, looking about the chambers they shared, she remembered the days when she went into the council rooms with her siblings, and they alone conferred; she despised how men led and she was supposed to follow. As a Telmarine king, Caspian did not need his queen by his side as he made important decisions of state. It frustrated her, and she hoped that in the future they could eliminate this barrier that prevented her from assisting him. They were the country's leaders, and should alone decide its fate.

**{~~~~X~~~~}**

The days after rapidly turned into weeks, and the weeks into a month for the King and Queen as they busied themselves about matters of court. Caspian pondered what moves to make and Susan wondered how he could continue as he was with so few Narnian supporters in the Council; yes, there were nobles and people, but they were nothing if the Council could not be convinced to change without force.

Caspian became so occupied with uncovering the murderers of Lord Glondäl that he did not think to keep track of who was keeping peace with Calormen. However, he soon found that Susan was the only one who was struggling to receive a reply from the southern kingdom; all the lords seemed to have forsought the task or declared it lost. In result, it seemed from reports that Calormen was gearing for a large-scale war. The trade that existed between them was lousy; hardly a pittance of what it should be, but no one knew what to do about it; since the murder, Calormen had been put on hold.

This was what the revolutionaries had been hoping for. Clearly, Narnia needed a king who was firm in the Telmarine ways and ready to unite with Calormen; not concerned about talking beasts and mythological creatures. A new leader was in order, and they must do it before this current one and his barbarian wife destroyed the country with their naïve ideals.

**{~~~~X~~~~}**

"If we are going to remove him, we should do so now; while everyone is distraught over this murder. Then, without a king to lead them, the people will naturally look to us to guide them in every decision," Lord Ezmanth declared.

"And the first shall be unity with the Tisroc!"

"Yes, Lord Berengarius, in due time," their leader declared. He had been silent until this moment, content in watching his three loyal men converse. Of course, Baron Lezack was hardly valuable, but still . . . he was _something_. The leader appreciated Berengarius' enthusiasm for Caspian's death, but at times the lord could be considered almost crazed by it; insanity was good in some cases, but now, it could send all their hard-made plans crumbling if he overstepped just once.

Ezmanth, gazing into his cup of wine, suddenly realized they had talked constantly of the removal of King Caspian and Queen Susan but they had never discussed what means of dispatch would be used. Frowning at the thought, the lord decided to broach the question to the gathering. "And what is the plan for the removal of our monarchs?"

"It is to be something our young king shall remember very clearly; something taken from the days when he was struggling to overthrow his uncle," Lord Berengarius declared with a fiendishly pleased glint in his dark grey eyes.

At this, their leader smiled sardonically. "Taking the means of death from victory– I like it." Lord Verius could not be more pleased at the way his plans were falling into place.

* * *

**A/N: **

**'Ignorant' used to mean unknowingly innocent in the old days; I have to admit that I like that meaning a lot better than the new one. As all my old readers will notice, I've changed Barnereius' name to Berengarius because I think that one's easier to pronounce. I think too, in this second time around, I'm going to include more day-to-day living and more Council meetings. I really just lived from action moment to action moment in the original story, and I don't like that now that I'm rereading it. **

**R&amp;R if you have questions. Happy reading, **

**WH**


	8. Sin, Sword, & Treachery

**Chapter Eight: Sin, Sword &amp; Treachery**

**{XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX}  
~ England ~**

Peter wondered if he would ever truly feel free again. Free from the worry and guilt thrust upon his shoulders; from the pain of knowing he could never return and set things right; never beg for forgiveness from the woman he had loved. It was strange to think of parts of his life in the past tense. To realize so much was now behind him and could never be again.

At times, he frightened himself with the thought that Narnia was a dream and he was only beginning to let it clear from his mind. In those moments, he wondered as to his sanity. He was eighteen – too young to consider himself ever in love! When his logic warred against his memory, he would grasp for anything, everything, he could hold on to. Usually, he thought about Edmund and Lucy, about Susan, and knew that if his mind was playing a fantastical dream as memories, his siblings would certainly not be privy to it!

It was on thoughts akin to these that Peter was musing as he took his daily walk through the streets near Hendon and St. Finbars one bright fall afternoon. As he turned onto a street just off the park, he suddenly felt a presence beside him. Turning, thinking perhaps someone was looking to pass him, he stopped. But the street was empty save a butcher rehanging his sign and a woman entering a milliner's shop. Just as he was about to continue on his way, he heard a soft voice on the breeze.

"_Faith and courage, Son of Adam. To love is to never forget, but for a season it will bring pain. You must continually hold fast to my words: once a King of Narnia, always a King. . . Tell Lucy to be patient, I shall call her in my own time, not yours; and tell Edmund to be strong; to never give in to the temptations any world should offer. Farewell, Son of Adam. . ."_

"Aslan? Aslan, wait, please! What of Susan and Caspian? Will I ever find the peace you spoke of? To know nothing is to die!" Peter cried, feeling for a moment as if he had been touched by Aslan's warm breath and his heart brushed by the Lion's knowing spirit. Peter looked around, feeling far more lost than he had wished to be, especially after hearing Aslan's voice; or, what he believed to be Aslan. He could be only hearing something he dearly longed to.

However, the images in his mind's eye were too vivid and too real to be something as slight as imagination. Susan, she seemed so close; if he had not been smarter, he might have reached out in the air towards her or asked how Narnia was faring. She looked up, but not at him, and Peter noticed her eyes held grief and doubt. And then Caspian came. He stared out over a great panorama of mountains and valleys and forests, but his dark eyes were grave; full of bitterness and confusion. Like Susan, he remained alone.

As they faded away from him, and he blinked, realizing he had never been transported back to Narnia, Peter remembered what Aslan had told him.

_"Aslan wished I tell Lu and Ed those words; I cannot fail Him,"_ he decided. So, turning around, Peter brought his walk to an end. Though now, the young man puzzled over what could be so sobering as to give his sister and friend such hopeless expressions.

**{XXXXXXXXXXXXX}  
~ Narnia ~**

It was an inky darkness that had fallen, and the soldiers on guard along the castle walls declared that it seemed a storm was passing through in the night. There was a full moon, but the great silver light was obscured by heavy clouds. A breeze whipped over Zadvede, causing the standards to flutter eerily in the darkness as they changed direction with the wind. The navy balcony drapes of Caspian's bedchamber – drawn to let in the cool air after the warm day – billowed lightly with the wind's pressure.

Finally, when the moon chanced to peek out from behind the clouds momentarily, it glinted against the coat of arms over the king and queen's bed. Swallowed again, the moon's light was extinguished, and the chamber was thrown into shadow upon shadow. When the light finally reappeared, it glinted along the length of a third sword. The blade wavered in its master's hand as he eased the door closed, careful that no one should know of his presence in this part of the castle.

"_Terrible shame to wake him; he hardly gets enough sleep what with everything we have done to occupy his time." _With great care, Lord Berengarius made his way to the bedside, lifting his sword hand.

**.**

**.**

In his dream, the falcon refused to lessen the grasp of his piercing talon on his shoulder, and it annoyed Caspian. Moving, he tried to force the raptor off, but it staunchly kept to its place. The sensation was so discomforting that he woke from his sleep to rid himself of it; but it seemed, even here, that the feeling did not wane. Caspian started when the point against his shoulder moved more to the center of his chest. He'd only felt that once before, when he was learning swordplay with his instructors years ago. The fogginess of sleep dissipating rapidly, Caspian looked up in the moonlight along the length of a blade.

"What are you doing?" But even as he spoke, he knew. "How could you betray me?" His voice was steel; hard and unyielding with anger. At his side, Susan shifted, roused slightly by the harsh sound of his voice in the night.

"I thought Your Majesty would have some recollection of this; my but you are disappointing! Not to dwell on the fact that you have been horribly disagreeable these past months either." The man feigned displeasure. "Do keep your voice down, I would be deeply grieved were the entire household to become aware of what is to transpire here; you would rob me of the chance to delight in your death." Berengarius had the audacity to appear plaintive while he spoke.

Caspian felt only spite and contempt. "You're a cunning traitor, but your actions are rash; you show too much impulsiveness with the thought of being rid of me. A wiser man might have waited until I was in a place where I could be easily slain. But then, you have always been a man of action and not of great thought." At his words the pressure behind the sword point increased.

"Why is it that in death you now speak the words of a great king?" Berengarius demanded through clenched teeth, feeling a momentary sense of dread which he quickly thrust aside. Now was not the time for fear, though the words the king had spoken reminded him of the young man's father . . . and Lord Miraz.

"I am _king_ because Aslan has seen fit to bestow upon me the right; whether I am great or not only time shall tell. Why have you chosen now to bring about my end? Before I am to die I should dearly like to know; it cannot be some slight matter you hold against me," Caspian remarked caustically. He sensed Susan move again in the shadows to his right, and wondered if she was awake.

"All men die; they cannot live forever!" the lord answered savagely. "Now simply happens to be your time; excluding that it will also be the most convenient moment, since alliance with Calormen is but a hairsbreadth away from our grasp. Your ideas of unity with the Narnian barbarians are the fantastical delusions of a young man who has not seen nor heard enough of the strange fears of the world, and that is another reason why you must die! We cannot allow you to poison the next generation with foolish notions!"

"Listen to what you say, Berengarius; you're afraid. You _fear_ me. You fear what I will bring to this world; the alterations I will make to your life and your small dark pleasures. The Narnians are vile creatures you have been told; not worthy to stand among us. And so, because I have sided with their cause, I am also, is this not true? You cannot deny it, surely." Though he was at the wrong end of the blade, he felt a strange sense of power.

"No! I mustn't fear some foolish boy with flights of fancy that shall burn in the searing heat of reality! What you have promised for the Narnians and our people is nothing to me or any of those who believe as I do; _nothing_, understand?" His voice held a note of wild desperation.

Caspian resisted the urge to wince at the twist of the sword point against his skin; instead he pulled back slightly. "You're a coward, to murder me in the night."

"And yet, I shall be regarded as a great man among the peoples once this is over." He sounded pleased in the darkness as he pushed the blade with greater force. Abruptly, it stopped, and the man stilled. "Ah, one more thing, since you seem to have forgotten. It was on a night much like this when a band of Narnian rabble raided this castle; three outlaw leaders attempted to assassinate our last king of note in his bedchambers," he paused, and suddenly, Caspian felt ill at heart.

"But, wait. . . Wasn't that you, my lord King; you and that Narnian high king and his queen sister. . . The same queen who shares your bed even as we speak?" The cunning in Berengarius' tone was distinct and not to be misheard. "I could never decide what could be the greater evil of the two: having a Narnian sympathizer on the throne or having a Narnian-Telmarine half breed sitting in the place of great kings. Neither is a favorable option." His voice dripped aversion.

Caspian gritted his teeth, recalling Glondäl and Cornelius discussing a similar matter regarding heirs. Their offspring's acceptance would be hard-won indeed. But what pained him the most about the thought was that they might have to fight for loyalty the whole of their lives; men like Berengarius would not allow his children and descendants peace while they had power to make them live in misery.

"I would rather our King's heir have the hardy blood of two veterans of betrayal and war than the thin blood of an ill-trained Telmarine dog who dares hide behind the delusion of easily gained riches and notions of peace with Calormen!" Susan's determined voice struck the two men from their locked stare.

While Caspian had been arguing with Berengarius, Susan had managed to pull one of the heavy greatswords from the coat of arms above the bed. Now, though her arms trembled slightly under the weight of the large and heavy blade, she directed the point of the weapon at the traitor. "You must not have heard the proverb from Muil, milord: '_Nothing good cometh from Tashbaan._' And nothing ever has." Her blue eyes gazed without wavering at the man standing by the bedside.

"I believe, little woman, that the winds of time are changing." Berengarius smiled cynically, staring back at the queen kneeling in the bed.

"For some things, time does not alter."

With a low cry, Susan began bringing her blade down. Quickly, to defend himself, Berengarius jerked his sword away from Caspian, raking the point across his arm as the king lunged to grab the second weapon in the coat of arms. Susan moved across the bed and slid her legs to the floor while at the same moment Caspian stood, forcing the traitor lord back. Blades glinted and flashed in the moonlight as they struck one another, going round and round in an arch. Eventually the monarchs managed to force the lord toward the balcony, hoping to get him to admit defeat once he was without escape.

Lunging once more, Susan locked her blade over Berengarius's. Caspian's followed with a resounding crash that echoed into the night. Momentarily glancing at one another, they focused their efforts into pushing the lord out on the balcony. He stumbled back against the balustrade, dropping his weapon. Quickly, Susan slid her sword under their opponent's hilt as Edmund and Peter had taught her long ago, and pulled it away.

Instead of pleading for his life to be spared, Berengarius straightened painfully, his leg feeling the brunt of the hilt of Caspian's sword. He smiled, blood dribbling down the side of his mouth from where one of the monarchs had managed to land a glancing blow.

"I relished this _immensely._ Pity that it appears my time is up; perhaps we shall meet on the fields of battle between Calormen and Narnia. Unless, of course, the king can artfully slip out of that as he did his much-deserved death. Farewell, Sire." Dipping his head, he glanced over the balustrade and the braced his hands against it. Before they could stop him, he vaulted the railing and leapt. Running to the edge, Susan and Caspian peered out into the night.

"Do you see him?" Susan asked anxiously. Though he had just tried to murder them, she disliked the idea that he sacrificed himself because he would rather die than fail in his cause.

"No. How could he vanish like that? Surely he. . ." Caspian stopped, not wishing to disturb Susan with his thoughts on the subject.

"He couldn't just disappear; perhaps he knew there would be something to break his fal–– Caspian, you're bleeding!" Susan had at first glanced at him, but turned back when she realized he was injured. Now, she came over to him, taking his arm in her hands and inspecting the wound, turning Caspian away from the balustrade.

"Susan, I'll be all right. This has happened before, though I never expected it to occur again. . ." he trailed off, looking over his shoulder into the darkness below. Making a small sound of annoyance low in her throat, Susan forced him back around.

"We'll notify the guards, but for the moment this needs tending. She drew him back into their chambers, leaving him in the center of the room and going to her dressing table to remove a shawl from one of the drawers. Coming back to him, a damp cloth in her hand from the wash basin, she began cleaning the slight wound. She glanced at Caspian's face and noticed he appeared to be thinking deeply.

"How could I have missed the signs?" he whispered, almost to himself. Moving back after tearing a strip of fabric from her old shawl and binding the injury, she searched his eyes, coming to stand in front of him.

"You were kept blind to it all; worried about Calormen, restoring Cair Paravel, the Giants refusing the treaty of peace, and trying to solve the murder of a supporter and good friend; a man who was probably murdered by Berengarius and his allies! How could you have been expected to see this lurking secret when you had everything else to attend to?" Her eyes remained on his face patiently, waiting for him to meet her gaze. Finally, he looked at her and sighed in agreement.

"This means that there are others among the Council and the court that are against us. We cannot know whom to rely in without fear that they mean us harm," he realized, his voice soft with concern and defeat.

"Then we confide in no one unless we are absolutely certain of their loyalties! We give no quarter to these traitors and we cannot show that this has made us afraid; I have nothing to fear, do you?"

He smiled slowly. "No, though I fear for them; they did not think of your wrath." She laughed quietly at his words.

It was silent for a moment, and then, "I believed for an instant that surely this was how Miraz and Pruniprismia felt when we burst into their private chambers that night of the raid." Caspian could detect a light strain of amusement in her voice.

"Though he was a tyrant. . ." he glanced around the room before settling his eyes on Susan's face. "That _was_ badly handled on my part," he admitted at last. Quietly, they burst into laughter. The matter had been nothing to laugh over when it had occurred, but now it seemed much lighter compared to their circumstances. Eventually, they quieted, each becoming lost in their own thoughts.

Caspian watched the sky begin to grow lighter, and suddenly, a thought struck him. "Susan, did it ever occur to you that if we _do_ go to war, your brother and sister might return?" He looked down at her. At her sharp intake of breath, he realized his thought was a revelation.

"Oh, how I would adore that. . . Not going to war, of course, but seeing Edmund and Lucy. What if we didn't have to wait until Aslan's Country to see them again?" She looked up at him with excitement in her clear eyes. He smiled back halfheartedly.

"I know you tend to rise before the castle, but perhaps you would care to return to bed with me, my Queen?" He slipped his arm around her waist, his expression changing to pure exhaustion.

"I do think that would be perfect; oh," she moved away from him and picked up one of the long greatswords. "We cannot go to sleep without some means of protection, my Lord." She held it up with some enthusiasm and he chuckled, pulling her close to his side and taking the sword by its hilt from her fingers as they walked back to bed.

"Of course, my Lady."

* * *

**A/N: **

**Annnd that's a wrap for chapter eight! (Originally this was part of chapter three, and there was lots more after this scene.) I much prefer this compared to the original. The dialogue here is by far better; Caspian has a bit more of Miraz' attitude than he did. He's more of his ancestor Caspian the Conqueror than Caspian boy king, I think. I also think Susan is better written in this chapter; in the original she was more weak and childish. My favorite part is where Berengarius calls her a little woman; it's such an obvious insult, and yet she doesn't even flinch. **

**R&amp;R if you have questions. Happy reading, **

**WH **


	9. Thy Will Be Done

**Chapter Nine: Thy Will Be Done**

**{XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX}  
~ England, Hendon House ~**

Peter sighed. Momentarily he closed his eyes. They'd been gone from Narnia for three months, yet it felt as if a lifetime had passed. No, it felt as if lifetime after lifetime was slipping through his fingers, and he was in agony because he could not slow them to enjoy the ages. The anguish rose bitterly in his heart and tried to consume him. He grappled with it, holding it at bay, but the struggle to keep from giving in was difficult, and made him so, _so_ tired. He was coming close to giving just anything to make the demons lie silent. Lifting his head from his knees, Peter continued to watch the sunrise.

He had climbed up the attic stairs and then braved the perilous expedition to the roofwalk atop the school to renew this old habit. He had decided a while ago that he would take part of the early morning hours to remember; Aslan was right, but He was always right; to love meant pain for a season. A soft smile came to his lips as his thoughts drifted to Amalia. He wondered how, because it seemed so _hard_, he could heal; perhaps. . .

What had become the most depressing was acceptance. To learn to cope with the fact that he would never be treated with any more respect than the next human being; that he would be one man among many and no longer a king of a great people, servant to a great god. He could not understand how it had been so simple for Susan to assimilate; she made it appear effortless in a way that earned his jealousy. She had slipped into Narnia and then seemed to glide out of it.

Peter did not think he could do so with any lightness of ease. It was too difficult; there were too many memories, too many things lost to ever recover from.

He scowled bitterly; why was everything always so hard for him? Would this _ever_ get easier, or would he always long for Aslan, for Amalia; for his true home? He had no answers, and felt that even if he tried, there were none to be sought. How had Amalia handled their disappearance? Had she wondered and question, or had she gone on; having greater hope than he that she would see him again? Oh, to not know was a burning agony in his chest!

The sun came up fully in the distance, over the chimneys and spires of churches and buildings. Just as in Narnia, it rose up to signal the coming of a new day rife with dangers and trials that had to be faced. At times how he loathed it! His siblings had never understood why he liked to think over matters as the sun rose, and he had never bothered to disclose the reason.

How could he tell them that the sunrise was his biggest fear?

Surely they could hardly be expected to comprehend! And yet . . . he wondered. Mightn't they have understood his fears if only he'd allowed himself to be more open with his emotions? All those times in Narnia, when the sunrise had been the omen of grim tidings: the news of Aslan's death and that an army was waiting to follow _him_ into battle. That sunrise had taken him from ignorant boy to perceptive young man who realized that war was sometimes necessary to protect what you believe in; just like this war with the Germans. Irrevocably changed; you could never go back. He knew this after everything that had befallen him, both tragic and joyful.

Lately, he'd taken to going on a pilgrimage to that small chapel hardly noticeable between the publishing house and the apartments over the shops. He was finding that things they said and things that had happened in Narnia were curiously correlated. Aslan's death and Christ's death; hope even when you couldn't see; love and justice when it seemed nothing better could happen. He marveled at it as he would've as king of Narnia. It made him feel closer to Aslan, in a small way. Perhaps, he thought, he needed that.

**{~~~~~~~~}**

**~ St. Finbars School ~**

Lucy paused in gathering her things. Was Susan enjoying her time in Narnia? What was she doing this moment? Talking with Caspian, dancing at a ball, or had time completely passed and she was a grey-haired queen like they had always wondered about and wanted to be in days of old? Did she have children or grandchildren about her feet and sitting in her lap as she told tales of her days as Queen Susan the Gentle of Narnia?

Oh, how she wondered! Ever since Ed had come to her with the message from Aslan to Peter she had dreamt of Narnia and all that had taken place there; especially all that was yet to take place now that Caspian was king. They had been so simple, Aslan's words for her, and yet they made her tingle with thinly veiled excitement.

"Lucy Pevensie, would you get on? I will not be late because you have taken off to daydream land again!" Jemima Windsler, one of the girls Lucy had befriended during the months here, scolded from the door, motioning animatedly when Lucy jumped and looked to her. She gave her a pale, fleeting smile.

"I'm coming!" She dared another glance out the window as she rushed from the room.

**{XXXXXXXXXXX}**

**~ Narnia ~**

It had been hardly three days since the attempted assassination, and they were on edge. Around them, the lords argued about what to do to better protect their monarchs while Caspian shared a glance with Susan. With reluctance, they had confided the matter to the Council after consulting Cornelius and Trumpkin; both of whom agreed it was best for all that the Telmarines be privy to the matter too. Now they sat amidst a hailstorm of oaths and arguments waiting for a moment to interject their proposals.

Another distressing complication that was indeed little relished was Calormen's declaration of war. Any Narnian or Telmarine found within the vast borders of the southern empire would be captured and held hostage as a prisoner of war. All, both Narnians and Telmarines, agreed it would be futile to send an ambassador to the southern empire. Susan glanced at Caspian and found that he was looking at her. Her gaze belied her calm composure. Suddenly, he turned away from meeting her eyes and stood roughly.

"Silence!" he thundered, earning a startled hush from the men around him. Even Susan straightened from surprise in her chair, her eyes turning to him. She had never heard him reprimand anyone in such harsh tones of ill-contained wrath.

"I have grown tired of your relentless tirades! You make me ill with your mock concern for me; I have begun to doubt all who stand before me. Some among you are traitors, though you talk of protection and my life as if it were your greatest care! This Council is dismissed." He turned away from looking at them, his eyes finding Susan's.

She looked passed him at the room, and he glanced over his shoulder. "Be gone!" He whirled abruptly, motioning to the great double doors. Uneasily they filtered from the room, glancing at him with wary eyes. With a sigh, Caspian dropped into his chair, covering his face with his hand. He did not know how to fix this. But he had not lied to the lords; the vileness of at least one of them was so great that they feigned concern for his life.

A hand rested on his knee. He looked into Susan's smiling face, but did not have extra strength to return her comfort. These past weeks had exhausted him. He felt as if he were seeing things from behind cut glass, or that he was gazing into another world; it did not seem as if this could be his life, and yet it was. Slowly, he reached out, brushing his fingers against her dark hair. She reached up, pressing his hand to her cheek as she kept her clear eyes on him.

"Aslan is with us," she murmured softly from where she sat at his feet. He studied her, taking in the golden circlet in her hair and the dark Telmarine gown she wore; her fair skin and dark locks, clear eyes full of hope and comfort.

"I cannot see Him," he whispered faintly in reply, grieving honesty in his dark gaze. He watched tears fill her eyes, beading her dark lashes as she attempted weakly to hold them back. They trailed slowly down her face, onto his hand that she held against her cheek.

"He is here; He _must_ be." But uncertainty shadowed her beautiful face, and he knew she doubted too.

**{XXXXXXXXXXXXX}  
~ England ~**

"Peter, please, won't you come for a walk with us? It could be like the old times again!" Lucy cajoled. Edmund was by the stairs, leaning against the corner, watching her beg in front of a door with a strange expression on his face, as if he were lost in his thoughts yet still conscious of the world around him. Suddenly, as Lucy leaned her hand against the door to hear if Peter was even awake, it flew open and her brother stared down at her.

"Lucy, nothing can ever be as it was; don't you understand? We will never be the same again. Please, stop trying to make me continue on as if nothing has changed; I cannot. How I wish you'd come to terms with that. I must; Aslan has given me no other way. Bless the Lion you haven't been forced to endure this pain," he finished, leaning tiredly against the door frame, blue eyes full of weariness.

"I wish you could tell me, Peter, what's wrong; please, come with us. If not to try to remember the past, at least for old times' sake," she pleaded, her expression mirroring one he would not soon forget; it was the same look she had coaxed him into playing hide-and-go-seek with. He could not forget that rainy summer's day. It was burned into his memory.

"All right, Lu." Slowly a smile slipped onto his face, and he shook his head a bit. "I couldn't deny you anything when you looked at me like that."

"Oh, good! Edmund's waiting by the stairs; I'll go tell him you're coming!" She dashed off happily and he watched her go, gazing after them as she spoke with Edmund and then they proceeded to descend the stairs to the first floor of the dorm.

Now that they were out of sight, he leaned heavily against the door frame, an anguished sigh passing over his lips. Each morning he struggled to gather strength to cover ground, to make it to the end of the day. To keep going felt as if it would kill him. Slowly, he knew he could adjust and come to terms about Narnia, but he did not think he would ever rest easy knowing he had abandoned Amalia to face whatever came alone. It tore at him and refused to be silenced. He knew he had no control over the matter, but the guilt raged on endlessly.

**{XXXXXXXXXXXX}**

**~ Narnia ~**

Caspian lay in bed with his arms folded over his chest, staring across their bedchamber at the wall. Candles burned on tables or stands scattered about, and Susan watched one flicker in a light draft from the balcony as she rested her head on Caspian's shoulder. They'd been talking while she sat at her dressing table and took down her hair and braided it loosely for bed; speculating on what could be done with the Calormene, and, either before or after that, how to pacify the Giants. They'd reached not a single conclusion, and now Caspian's direct gaze appeared determined to burn holes in the tapestry hanging from the wall.

"When I was little, my mother would tell Peter not to stare so intently else he'd go cross-eyed. So stop that!" She smiled slightly, tugging a bit on his loose shirtsleeve. It had been difficult, trying to keep him in good spirits; what she couldn't give to have her mother here to advise her on what to do! She'd always seemed to know how to keep their father hopeful before he was recruited, because his education as a mathematics professor, into Intelligence for the war.

"I'd rather rip holes in the dreadful needlepoint and burn it than stare, so be contented with that," he replied shortly, a low sound of frustration following his words.

Susan sighed in vexation. She lifted her head, sitting up in bed beside him. "Caspian, you cannot keep on like this; yes, I know how trying this ordeal is, and I know how difficult it must be for you to be trapped between all these walls of politics, but brewing over them for hours on end will not help you make them any better."

She reached over and tugged one of his hands up, forcing him to uncross his arms. Thoughtfully, she laced her fingers through his, watching as he returned the pressure of their linked fingers. Her eyes lifted and their gazes met. His was stormy, full of restrained anger and impatience. She hoped hers held an equal amount of serenity.

He sighed at last, bowing his head and momentarily studying the sheets before looking back at her. "It's just. . . Susan, this is a war I have no quarrel in. No reason to fight. It's a war for wealth and power and control. I have never cared for such things; I only fight for what is right and true. Giving your people –" She gave him and look, and he smiled fleetingly, "_our_ people– back their land and restoring uprightness was something I believed in; it gave me something to go to when I questioned my actions. I have nothing of the like going into this war. It's only a battle to discover who the more influential man is." He looked away from her, his dark hair falling so she couldn't see his face.

Susan thought about what he'd said as she looked at him, and realization hit her. She was reminded of something Lucy had said once when the younger queen mentioned not wanting to venture to Calormen.

"You have no dogs in this hunt." She gave a grim little smile to herself, but quickly discarded it when he turned to look at her again.

"What?" At first confusion filled his eyes, but they cleared and he nodded slightly. "Yes, I suppose. . ." He cut off his question, understanding her phrase.

"I see." She brushed her thumb absently across the back of his hand. Sometimes, she wished she didn't have to see so easily and quickly; she wished that Caspian did not wear all his emotions on his sleeve; his anger and pain and fear and sorrow. It was difficult in times like these.

"Yet I must still assemble an army and ride at its head. No matter what I say, I must wage a war I have no desire to!" His voice rose in rage when he mentioned what they had been discussing about mobilizing the military.

She swallowed, looking at him pointedly as he heightened his tone.

"A king does not reign because it is _easy_ or _comfortable_ for him, Caspian. Very often, they must do things they have no wish to– protect someone's honor though it may cost them their life," her voice changed as she spoke, but she carried on, "Fight wars they wish they didn't have to participate in. A man is made _king_ because he is capable of leadership and understands some will only heed him through his use of the sword instead of use of the tongue." She now turned her head away from him, though she kept his hand in hers.

Caspian looked at her, hurt shadowing his dark eyes. Hurt for what he had said and the carelessness with which he had uttered his words. The confusion and anger had not abated; merely blown over for a time until the clouds gathered again. Nevertheless, he felt remorse largely. "I am not being an equitable king; I'm being senseless and rash, aren't I?" He hoped she'd look at him again, and after a moment, she did.

"Oh, very much," she murmured, inhaling a shaky breath. Edmund and Peter had mentioned the audacity and anger of Telmarine people –particularly in the royal family– when they had been kings and queens growing up the first time around, but she had never realized just how true her brothers' words had been until now, since she'd married into that family.

"It is so difficult when I wish things would go one way and they seem to be crumbling around me instead. I haven't much patience, I know, and I fear I never shall. But I will try, as long as you wish and as hard as you wish," he declared, looking into her eyes. "I have become so preoccupied with this nightmare that I fear I have not been the most attentive of husbands. Your brothers would not be pleased," he decided, allowing a small smile.

She returned the smile, gratitude showing in her eyes. "_I_ find little to complain about, except your attitude towards this mutiny of the ranks; _and_ the way you stare at Queen Dolores' tapestry as if you wish it would burn!" She let out an amused giggle, and he chuckled himself, glancing at it over her shoulder.

"You must admit it _is_ dull," he coaxed.

"And plain," she replied, soft laughter escaping her again.

"Boring too, you know." He lifted a dark eyebrow in mock seriousness, though he couldn't wipe the smile from his face.

"All in all an atrocity that _is_ part of your _history_," she reminded quickly, trying not to ridicule the piece of Telmarine stitchery too badly, however much they wanted to.

"Might I be forgiven?" He changed topic, looking at her with an uncertain expression that she found charming.

"Yes." She nodded graciously, as if she were bestowing some sort of knighthood. He chuckled, closing his eyes and tilting his head down as he tried to suppress his merriment. Too much noise and the soldiers stationed outside their door would wonder if something was amiss.

"A kiss and all should be resolved; at least for tonight," he insisted, to which she smiled until she realized he was not speaking in jest. She leaned forward, and he put a hand on her face, gently cupping her cheek. His eyes momentarily searched hers, and then he kissed her, moving her hand until it rested on his shoulder. She slid her other hand up his arm, slowly weaving her fingers into his hair as he leaned back.

**{XXXXXXXXXXXXX}  
~ England ~**

"Come on; catch me if you can, Eddie!" Lucy laughed brightly, looking over her shoulder, blonde-brown hair flying in her wake, as she watched her brother chase her with a grin across the brown grass of the park near their respective boarding schools.

"I'll certainly catch you; I'm the faster!" he replied, his own laughter echoing in the afternoon air.

Not far away, Peter watched them as he leaned against a tree. They had such great hopes to look forward to in the future. They had the promise of returning to Narnia, Aslan had said so; he had been given next to nothing. Perhaps to a vain person, getting to live your life over again could be seen as some wonderful blessing, but to him, it was nothing short of a curse. A curse he could not prevent, nor did he even know of until now.

To be left without even a glimmer of hope was nearly destroying in and of itself. One can only go on so long without the knowledge of hope. Faith in anything is the byproduct of hope. One _cannot _have faith if the light of hope has dimmed and gone black. Peter would have to find the hope he had left behind if he was ever to renew his faith in Aslan and Narnia.

But how can one find hope in such a land of nonbelievers and worldly people, who have never known what it was like to deliver a nation from darkness or the threat thereof? To know and be known by those you loved; who you served and who served you? This was the true quest that Aslan had prepared Peter for by allowing him to come into Narnia. One can easily believe when everything is merry and you can see Aslan going on before you, but to be without a visual guide? That is the true test.

Peter didn't yet know, but Aslan had done all these things so that he could be a stronger, better person. But the road to such unending belief is littered with temptations and stones; if you look to a temptation and you stop watching where you're putting your feet, you shall stumble. Faith is not something one can achieve by a single act, but by continuous falling, getting back up, and having hope that someone greater than yourself knows and will help you be healed from this new wound. That is and always, will be Faith.

* * *

**A/N: **

**The title comes from the song '_Thy Will_' by Hillary Scott &amp; The Scott Family. This chapter largely stemmed from that song. (At least the rewrite did.) It might not seem to have much of a connection, but to me there is significance. The lyrics of the song actually fit this chapter; in fact, they fit this whole fanfic very nicely.**

**Now: thanks is in order to all who Reviewed and who have Followed this story and Favorited it! :) Thanks guys, for checking out this story and bothering to do any of those things! ****And if anyone from the original is out there reading this: you know who you are, can you believe how much this story has improved? **

**Ya'll know what to do! ;) Happy reading, **

**WH **


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